


Xenotober X 2020

by NullNoMore



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Genre: Bug Whisperer team, Day of the Dead party, Division underwear, Fight Scenes, Frye is an idiot, I hate writing fight scenes so I deserve a cookie, I have been told excessive tags are a social faux pas, I need a tissue now, Irina tries to hold a briefing, Nopon fashion, Prenar means treasure, Prisoners, Reporters, Rosalee Lopez, Treasure of O'rrh Sim, Wolf & Duna AU, Wolf is exhausted, Wolf&Dunatober, Xenotober2020, beaporge, by the way if you thought Ch. 6 was fluffy I won't tell you no, caring for your teammate, ch. 12 is a break, coffee with a friend even better, coffee with a view, fight scene wish me luck, ghost stories with Nopon, ghost stories with Orphe, inquiring minds want to know, it was not the friends we made along the way, laughing, missions started by gut instincts, personal patch headcanon, so many new Prone characters, the month formerly known as something else, then back to Wolf & Duna, there's something about this planet, they find the real treasure in Ch. 13, tired teammate, to which I say wheeeeeeeeeeee!, touching family reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 23,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NullNoMore/pseuds/NullNoMore
Summary: The plan: a super short story a day, written in ink first. OCs and NPCs a plenty. I love suggestions but I have a list and can make my own fun. Let's see if things connect this year. Example: Doug versus a reporter. Irina struggles with childish teammates. Vandham has a vision and coffee. Starting with Chapter 5, a multi-part story of Wolf and Duna, a BLADE and a Prone, searching for a mysterious treasure in Cauldros.All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and I appreciate playing in their world.
Comments: 48
Kudos: 5
Collections: Xenotober 2020





	1. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Battle for the Lifehold, inquiring minds want to know. Barret isn't feeling it.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

The pert young man thrust his comm device in the face of his current target. "Congratulations on securing the Lifehold!" He had to shout over the confusion surrounding him. The area in front of the Mimeosome Maintenance Center was a chaos of soldiers grabbing each other excitedly, calling greetings across several other groups, generally riotous with relief. The whole of NLA had started to rejoice when the tower flared green, but the celebrations around the stores and cafes of Melville Street were nothing compaired to the response in the Administrative District, especially once the troops started to return.

He'd spotted a familiar face exiting the Center. The soldier seemed a little distracted, not joining other groups. The newly appointed reporter was certain this would be an important interview, but catching the other man's attention wasn't going well. He shouted more loudly now, "You fought in the battle in the core, right?"

The interview subject finally focused on the microphone halfway up his nose. He twisted his broad face away slightly. He was built along the lines of a heavyweight skell, even if you ignored his bulky and battered armor. His face was clean shaven and freshly washed, but still haggard. "Yeah, yeah, I was there," he rumbled slowly.

"Could you introduce yourself?" the reporter asked brightly.

"You know me."

"It's for the record."

"What record?"

"We want to do a video. For the civilians and xenos. About the Heroes of the Lifehold." The younger man skittered nervously, moving so he could keep an eye on the door to the Center. If someone more important exited, he wanted to be ready to pounce. Meanwhile, even if the interview went nowhere, this could still be good background footage. "So could you say your name? Please?"

The man heaved a sigh as heavy as his armor. "Doug Barret. Harrier. And I'm no hero."

"The information I have was that there were multiple enemies, unexpected developments..." The reporter trailed off. He had no information whatsoever. It was a pure guess. The ECP hadn't done much beyond changing the display of the tower overlooking the city. It was exciting, sure, visible from anywhere on Mira, but it didn't really provide any details beyond "job done". A friend had spotted a possible new alien ally entering the Maintenance Center with the first wave of returning BLADEs, which was why the reporter had camped out here rather than in front of the administration offices located in BLADE tower. He looked hopefully at Barret.

Doug's face had hardened. "It went just fine. We'll get our lost friends back soon, that's all that matters."

The novice reporter nodded sympathetically. This wasn't going to be the break in the wall of official silence. He pivoted to a human interest question. "You said you didn't think of yourself as a hero. But surely there are people in NLA that would disagree."

Doug crossed his arms and clamped his jaw shut. The reporter didn't move the comm device and did his best to shine with hero worship. He was rewarded with a short response. "I went in as a member of a team and I wouldn't be standing here without their actions. All of their actions. All of us are here because of them." Barret tilted his head back and his arms slid down loosely. "Look, right now, I don't know what I am besides tired and more tired. Go find another hero." He walked away without another word.

The younger man swallowed his disappointment and checked his feed for a second. After the first few swipes, he smiled brightly. The ECP had announced, less than a minute ago, that there would be a press conference in the Maintenance Center at 1500. He had thirty minutes. He needed his full weight to push through the crowd towards the door. With luck, he'd get a spot in the first row.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally my Cross Roo, lean and smiling and with more iced coffee drinks. Never was a hero, never will be, just a guy from a pod with high hp stats. The reporter might be Justin, who knows. (It totally is Justin.)
> 
> Next up: Duty. Unless I try a suggestion (such as "haircut", I have it on my list and on a bad day I will treat myself...)


	2. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irina is taking a team of Interceptors on an easy mission. If only they could get through the briefing safely.
> 
> Slight swears, and it's not all Frye's fault.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and Neesae is my Cross Number 3.

Frye was snickering. This was doing nothing to charm Irina. "Did I say something funny?" she snapped. Her eyes flickered from him to the other teammates of today's squad. Gwin had his resting puppy face, a little too earnest to be genuine. Frye's grin was even more twisted than usual and his eyes were sparkling. Standing a pace off to the side was the fourth teammate, Neesae, tall and composed and coolly detached from the other two chuckleheads. "Never mind, I don't kneed to know what's crawling through your brain."

"You said...," Frye began.

Gwin hurriedly hushed him. "You were telling us about today's mission. Beach duty, right?" Gwin pushed a flop of hair out of his eyes and tried to look professional. The hair flopped immediately back.

Irina took a breath and focused. "Beach duty. We'll be clearing the beach by FN 120, the one facing Oblivia. Only the low level piscanoids close to the beach. Consists mostly of a cluster of xiphias plus a bigger boy at the end. We will not, repeat **not** [she emphasized this word hard] be using our skells. Ground only until the job is done. This kind of fighting requires teamwork, do you hear me Frye?"

Frye flinched at the shout out, then gave her a leering thumbs up.

Irina continued. "We'll use ranged weapons at the start. I'm counting on you two [she nodded at Frye and Gwin] to get right up to the edge of the water and lure them in. The edge, people. I don't want to see anyone getting over excited and start splashing around with a melee weapon before they're in range." She sighed. It wasn't fair to nag them like this, but her experience with the last team of randos lingered in her mind. She had spent half the mission whistling them back onto shore only to watch them plunge straight at the target a second later. Naturally, they found themselves neck deep in the ocean and flailing uselessly. This team was experienced, she reminded herself. Then Gwin whispered something and Frye snickered again.

She was glaring at them when Neesae spoke up. "Don't worry, Irina. I won't mess up my boots on any beach duty," she assured her.

Irina didn't feel comforted. Again, her silvery eyes skimmed her team. Frye's snicker had shifted to a cackle. He was so full of something, he was about to bust. Did she really need to check his blood alcohol levels before leaving NLA? Gwin had his "good boy" face on, which meant he hadn't been paying attention, at all. Neesae looked so detached, she might drift off at any second. Irina hadn't listened to the worst of the recent stories about Neesae, but she needed Nees to be fully engaged with this mission.

"What is wrong with all of you?" she finally said with steely concern.

"You said duty," Frye finally burst out. "Duty. Duuuuuuuty. Doooooooody!" he howled.

To her horror, Irina's team entire collapsed right before her eyes. Frye had to bend down and lean on his knees to keep from crumpling to the deck with laughter. Or maybe he needed to brace himself to support Gwin, who was leaning on him and giggling hysterically. Each time one of them started to calm down, the other said "duty" like a deranged peeper frog and they'd be howling again.

Irina looked at Neesae for backup, but there was no help to be found there. Neesae was laughing too, her head tilted back and a soft smile spread wide. Her tight dreads quivered slightly. For once, her face wasn't angry or reserved. It was a good look, one that Irina had seen far too little on her recently.

Irina successfully resisted smiling herself. "Can we be done now?" Her voice was clipped but not angry.

Neesae had already recovered. She wiped her eyes carefully (as if her makeup could be endangered by anything less than an ether blast to the face, let that never befall her). "Sorry, 'rina, but that word sends my brain straight back to kindergarten." Gwin was gasping quietly now. He nodded his agreement.

Irina stared at Frye. He was upright again, solid, focused, even as he was grinning with every wolf's tooth in his head. "I'm good, I'm good. I can keep it under control."

"See that you do. The mission details may sound like crap, but the Colonel asked me to get it done and I'm _going_ to get it done to the letter."

"Elma assigned it?" Gwin's full attention was engaged now. "It must be important or something."

Frye gave a low whistle in agreement. "I thought it was just another punishment duty. I tend to get assigned those, for reasons."

"They do follow you around like a bad smell," Neesae said slyly.

Frye made a show of checking his boots. "Don't know what you mean, girly. Mine are as clean as yours." He cast a glance at Neesae's elegant footwear. "Once upon a time, anyway."

Irina counted to five, then shook her head. "People. No matter the target, we know the job is important. We have our mission and, yes, our duty to perform." She paused. Frye's lip twitched. No other comment. She nodded her approval. This team would do. "Let's head out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why only on ground? Why are they supposed to stay out of the water with skells? This feels like it could continue.
> 
> Neesae was a name in a story years ago, then a recurring character, now a proper Cross. For example, her story popped up in Inktober 2018 connected stories [Poison Ink](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13081506/10/Inktober-2018) (she isn't mentioned until the third story but then it goes hard. Extreme harm warning and swears.)
> 
> Next up: Daybreak.


	3. Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagi and Vandham have morning coffee.
> 
> Monolith Soft, all the good things are theirs.

"Hey."

A low rumble, clearly human and directly behind him. Secretary Nagi turned smoothly. He was too quick to startle, but he silently chided himself for not noticing the approach of a form just shy of the size of a skell. Concern over the ongoing defense against the Ganglion, only recently at their very gates, was no excuse for becoming this distracted. "Commander?" he inquired politely.

"Brought you something." Vandham shoved a steaming paper cup at him. The small whisps were clear in the cold morning air.

"I'm on duty," Nagi said pointedly as he accepted the coffee. The flimsy cup and cardboard sleeve did little to block the warmth seeping into his gloved hands. He folded both hands around the coffee and sniffed carefully.

"I'm not, least not for another ten minutes. Call it diplomatic practice or something, sharing a drink with me." At Nagi's quirked eyebrow, Vandham snorted. "I promise I didn't fortify yours."

"I suppose we could declare this an official ECP meeting," Nagi considered.

"Nuh uh." Vandham shook his craggy head. "I didn't bring a third for old Maurice up there." He looked over his shoulder guiltily. "I probably should bring him something." The furrows in his brow were threatening to swallow his entire forehead.

"Tomorrow," Nagi said easily. Nagi was aware of the tensions between BLADE and the civilian administration. He also knew that there was no intentional ill-will.

"Can do."

The two of them stood overlooking the city, sipping their coffees, as the moons faded to mist. Nagi waited for Vandham to bring up some logistical issue. The water plant, perhaps, or the obvious damage to the roads leading into the Commercial District. Vandham remained silent except for some appreciative slurping noises. Nagi allowed himself to relax as the mist itself faded. Slowly the indeterminate dawn turned every surface of New Los Angeles, every roof, every lot, a charming blossom pink. Then, suddenly, as he knew would happen, the city flashed golden, as if the hopes and prayers of all the inhabitants had been made visible. But this only lasted a moment. The sky settled into a fine and gentle blue, and New Los Angeles was its normal concrete self. He took one last sip of coffee.

"Gonna be a nice day," Vandham stated the obvious. "I think you picked yourself the best spot for viewing the city."

Nagi handed Vandham his now empty cup. "It wasn't chosen by accident. Thank you for this."

"No problem. I gotta shove off but we gotta do this again."

"After you've spent time with Chausson."

Vandham huffed. "Gotcha. One for daybreak, one for the night owls. Cover all the bases. But I might put something in his, just to loosen him up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write what you need, I always say! I needed something kind and brainless in my life. Also a nice cup of tea.
> 
> Next up: A vision. I have something old but it isn't for public consumption.


	4. A Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Council of NLA's bigwigs, trying to figure out how best to use limited resources. Very careful deliberations based on ... a hunch?
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but I snuck in a reference to Lila Brown the OC NPC.

"So, counting the recently implemented Wrothian patrols in Oblivia, we have enough free troops to send five teams to start checking the boundary north of Cauldros." Vandham finished his report breathlessly, having only fumbled during one obviously hastily created power point slide.

The briefing room was uncomfortably silent. A sudden proposal to shift exploration resources to the waters beyond the upper continent was not quite what they had expected from an emergency meeting. Elma was inspecting the rest of the group curiously, while Secretary of Defense Nagi was re-reading the proposal for the third time.

"Well," Eleanora said brightly into the void, "I'm sure we can put it on the list of hexes to clear. We can discuss rewards privately. Lower level due to lack of urgency."

"I don't want it as a regular mission. I was thinking higher priority. Official BLADE request, using my name," Commander Vandham argued.

Director General Maurice Chausson, the only member in strictly civilian garb, adjusted his necktie carefully. He had not wasted his time reading the proposal, beyond checking points as Vandham had droned through his presentation. Mostly he had glared at the beefy former engineer. "Commander," he began acidly. "Only last week, you were the most vociferous in favor of the continued sweep of northern Noctilum waters. I believe you threatened us all with detailed tables on velocity, scatter patterns, and salvage probabilities if we pulled any teams from the search of the waters around the Lifehold. Teams that you now recommend reducing by 15%. What could possibly have altered your passion?"

Vandham flushed deeply, but his response was not the usual contrarian bellow he used when butting heads with Maurice. He tugged on one ear furiously. "It's kind of a hunch." Nagi shot him a concerned look, then began reading the proposal from the start.

"A hunch." Maurice's clipped voice made a mockery of the word. "A hunch, hopefully based on some recent report. Indicators from Frontier Nav? Debris collected by Reclaimers?" He looked at Elma, who shook her head a fraction. "No? Anything? Or did I miss that section due to your scintillating delivery?"

"No, not exactly," Vandham admitted. "But something in my gut says to look north and to do it now."

"Surely something happened to redirect your yen for adventure?"

The silence was even more uncomfortable. Nagi's eyes were absolutely riveted to the last page of his briefing documents. Elma looked as if she was struggling to find the appropriate words.

"Okay, so I had a dream," Vandham burst out. "Happy?"

Chausson's face almost grew rosy with emotion. "A dream?!" he spat out. He gave a cough that would have been a laugh from anyone else. "You want us to readjust policies based on a dream?"

"More like a vision. I wasn't the only one to see it by the way. Lila was there and ..."

"Oh Lord lend me strength. Ms. Brown's reputation for veracity is less than stellar."

"Don't start on that, you. Either of you." Vandham swung a meaty finger at both Chausson and Eleonora. Eleonora opened her eyes wide in innocent protest. "She saw it, same as me. There's something up there and we need to find it."

"Give us the details of your vision, Commander," Nagi ordered quietly before Chausson could give the response that Vandham's bombshell deserved.

Vandham launched into it hastily. "It was last night. We were sitting there, watching some show. Suddenly, I could see it, clear as day. It's a sixth continent, icy, fairly flat, lots of water features, with a central range of mountains. Near the cliffs was a human outpost. Our people, up there, and they need our help."

"An outpost," mused Elma. "Were they survivors from our ship?"

"I couldn't tell. I didn't recognize any of them from engineering. They might be from another ship, or passengers I didn't know. But I would have guessed they were ECP and soldiers at that. Looked like it, anyway. It looked like their resources were running low, too."

"Enemy forces?" Nagi asked.

"Mostly Marnuck. Lots of those bad boys. Fresh troops and new materials. Some other xenos, smaller, but I couldn't tell if they were friend or foe. I ran a description by Pfeffen, but he couldn't i.d. them."

"You brought this fairy tale to our Ma-non allies before presenting it to us?!" Maurice spluttered.

"Relax. I didn't say a thing about the vision. He probably thinks I was describing a character from an anime. I 'll have to find him a new series to keep him quiet." Vandham inhaled a bushel of air and let it out slowly. "Look, I know what I saw, and I'll be damned if I let this go. If things didn't look so dire for the people up there, I'd have slipped this request in slowly, but I got the feeling there isn't much time."

"The Marnuck have been decreasing their presence on all continents lately," Nagi put in. "We've been watching for signs of a focused assault."

"Thank you! See? Some support."

"Disastrous thinking if there really is an upcoming assault on the city," Chausson shot back.

Eleonora looked up from the notes she'd been taking. "Well, we can certainly have the Pathfinders check Frontier Nav readings more carefully. Perhaps if they get better data we can discuss this again, next week."

"I saw it too," Elma said calmly.

"What? Were you at Vandham's movie night as well?" spat out Chausson.

"NO!" blasted Vandham, then clamped his jaw shut.

Elmas shook her head calmly. "I spent the evening with Cross. We also had a shared vision. The details match what the Commander described. We weren't sure about the inhabitants, although they clearly looked human."

Before either Chausson or Vandham could respond, Nagi took his turn to speak. "I find myself in the same situation. I can assure you, those colonists were not crew members, but they showed every sign of being fellow ECP members. And I agree with Commander Vandham: they were in distress. Even if they were not, it is vital that we make contact with them."

Vandham sat in stunned silence. Maurice narrowed his eyes. "So what are we to make of this?"

"Possibly a transferred distress message. Or a planetary request," offered Elma.

"That is fantastic."

"You know that Mira is capable of playing with time, gravity, communications. With our very existence. A message in the form of a dream seems perfectly within bounds."

"And of all the participants of our counsel, I am the only one excluded. Excuse me if I remain suspicious."

Vandham was now beet red with emotion, while Elma was again searching for the appropriate phrase. Nagi's response was quick and smooth. "Perhaps because you were the only one of us to have spent the evening in private. The rest of us were with a second witness."

"And why should that matter?"

"Possibly because it made it harder to dismiss. Or we were more receptive."

"More susceptible, I should call it, if you are having joint hallucinations." To this, none of the others had a response.

Vandham cleared his throat loudly. "Point is, we got a lot of reason to be curious and a hint we should be in a hurry. We got a direction and a rough description of what we're facing. We need to start the sweep today."

"I must formally protest," Chausson said without heat.

"Noted," Nagi replied. "I can't say I'm completely at ease about the possibility of a trap. I intend to see that any exploration does not leave us vulnerable."

"Now we're talking!" Vandham said with gusto. "Let's see if we can bang out a plan by tomorrow's BLADE briefing."

And thus the search for the sixth continent began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that Lila Brown is Vandham's ex, now a close friend. Uh huh. I have the fic to prove it.


	5. Rain (Wolf and Duna start)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf, the scary trainer from the Missions Board, and Miss Duna Valdileo, the Prone with a thing for large humans, are on a mission in Cauldros. They have to gather some info first, though.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, including Wolf and Duna (but not the quest) and probably the unnamed Nopon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a previous, unfinished story. Wolf and Duna are asked to find a treasure in Cauldros by a mysterious young prone woman on the Ma-non ship. She might have been a ghost, but she was once a young friend of Duna who disappeared when the Tree Clan were first captured. Wolf heads to Cauldros, with the not quite wanted help of Duna, in some nice new skells and with almost no information beyond the vague description of a rogue band of Cavern Prone.

It killed him to wake her. When they'd reached the Nopon caravan, safely nestled in a blast crater, Duna had asked Wolf if they could take a break for a moment. She'd needed to keep a hand on the mech to stand steadily, but her pride was undiminished. He'd planned to get info from the locals anyway, so it wasn't a lie when he suggested she could stay by the skells and rest. She hadn't hidden her grateful sigh as she folded to her knees. He'd scanned the scatter of dwellings, trying to decide where to start. When he'd turned back to see if she had a suggestion, he found her curled in a delicate heap.

He'd been alarmed by her collapse. Bending over her, he was only slightly relieved to find she was in a deep sleep, eyes closed, minor tentacles motionless and curled against her skull. Even her major tentacles were still, indicating neither the equivalent of a smile or a frown. For a moment, he was absolutely unsure what to do. Yes, the small caravan was a safe zone, and he'd only be a few steps away, but it went against every instinct to leave her utterly defenseless. As he was fighting unexpected panic, a Nopon waddled up to them. The fluffy resident stood at Wolf's knee and took a moment to stare at Duna with him.

"Friend very tired."

"We had to leave the city very early," Wolf said defensively.

"It happen. Nap hard, nap strong." The Nopon peeped at Wolf. "Friend worried. Not to be, very natural."

Wolf might as well begin the fact gathering with this subject. "We're looking for a small Prone group, possibly in this area, or maybe over by the ruins of the O'rrh Sim. People like her," he gestured at Duna, "except grey."

"Like her, except awake," chuckled the Nopon.

"Do you have any idea about them?"

"Caravan leader pro tem know most things. Friend go ask her." The Nopon waved towards the far side of the encampment. When Wolf hesitated, the Nopon chuckled again. "Me stay and watch. Not necessary but easy to help. She napping double hard, double strong." The Nopon settled onto the ground by Duna's hip, fluffing its major wing arms and shimmying into a comfortable position, much like a contented chicken.

His first contact had been right. The caravan's temporary leader knew of the Prone group, their movements and numbers, or at least knew which Nopon had more information. It still took a chain of introductions to get all the details. By the end, Wolf had far more understanding than they'd had upon leaving NLA, possibly enough to guess at the treasure. The better part of an hour had passed and the sky was clouding over by the time he returned to the skells. Neither Duna nor her self-appointed nanny had moved a milimeter, as far as Wolf could tell. As he approached, the Nopon hopped up and waddled away without a word.

Which left him with the job of waking her. Wolf hardened his heart. "Duna, time to get up." He shook her shoulder. Her six eyes opened at once, bright but empty. A second later, she was on her feet, stamping her boots delicately and running her fingers through her tentacles.

"I've got good info on where they might be. It's close enough that we can't use the skells though. It has to be on foot, though, because we can't spook them. If you want to stay here..."

"I am ready for anything, BLADE Wolf," she interrupted. She glanced upward, then shook her head. Her smaller tentacles snapped quietly, indicating her dismay. "But we should make haste. I do not like the thought of what rain Cauldros will offer us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two dorks and their secret mission belong to an unfinished, seemingly abandoned, story, [The Treasure of O'rrh Sim](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12493612/1/The-Treasure-of-O-rrh-Sim). Maybe not so abandoned, because I keep writing chapters every excuse I get. Short version: a ghost(?) told them of a super special treasure in Cauldros, held by a small band of Ganglion Prone. They're out to get whatever it is and bring it back to NLA. They recently showed up in [Hourly Challenge Sylvalum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562319), making their way through Sylvalum into Cauldros.
> 
> Next up: The next part of this story, because I never actually discussed rain. Officially: Danger. I can work with that. Don't worry, they'll be fine.


	6. Danger (Wolf & Duna cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger, or, prompt, what prompt?
> 
> Wolf and Duna (from the last chapter) need to take another break due to injury. Don't worry, they'll be fine.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but not this mission. I'm sure it happens though.

He'd given her the details as quickly as he could, during the very short skell ride to the cliff overlooking the lava pools. It had been just long enough to cover the news: the locals had seen the enemy patrol yesterday evening, gathering resources at the cinder cones before retreating to a temporary encampment. One particularly foolhardy Nopon had approached the group in hopes of opening a pop-up trading post and had ending up running for his life. While he couldn't say how many were at the encampment, the furball had seen almost a dozen Prone at the work site. From his descriptions, Wolf gathered that not all of the Prone were soldiers. Most of the group hadn't been wearing armor and seemed to be working while under guard, according to the Nopon eye-witness. The most important news: the prisoners were blue. Blue like Duna, blue like her clan, blue like all the other Prone that BLADE had helped liberate from Ganglion Prone control.

"That must be the / _prenar_ /!" exclaimed Duna. Her excitement and passion were strong enough that the planet's translation service had failed. This had to be the treasure they were seeking.

"Looks like it." Wolf wasn't as elated. The sky had darkened overhead, an every dark cloud was edged with menacing red. A glowing ember pinged off his boot.

"Brimstone rain. Of course," he muttered. If they had flown against torrential rain in Primordia and felt their way through spore fog in Sylvalum, it only stood to reason that they'd have fire falling on their heads in Cauldros.

Even the best armor would be useless. They needed to get to shelter. The skells were a short run back, but Wolf knew there was an overhang down the slope, only a slightly longer run and that much closer to their goal. He sprinted ahead, counting on Duna to keep up. It would only be a short dash, not even as far as their earlier run from the gates of NLA to their skells a million years ago when they had started this quest.

The air was shimmering with heat and the ground was crawling with fire by the time they reached the underpass. The broad path had sloped down to the lava pools, with nothing to shield them from their heat, but at least the natural rocky bridge kept off the embers that had been slamming into them from all sides. Wolf slowed his pace and looked over his shoulder. Duna was at his heels, slightly breathless and limping badly. Every other step was a stilted hop, done quickly. Her eyes were dark with pain.

He quickly pulled her over to the far edge of the path, where the overpass angled low. She leaned on him, but didn't lag. "You need to rest?" he asked, even as he was helping her to sit down.

"Only for a moment." She had settled tensely, one knee drawn to her chest. She extended the bent leg with a grunt of effort.

"Injury? An ember catch you wrong?" Wolf asked. Her armor looked as smooth and unblemished as when they'd left NLA.

"A fist in the leg," she said tightly. She flexed her foot with a slight gasp. Her minor tentacles were pressed flat against her skull.

"Huh?"

"A muscle has decided to tighten without end. Like a fist." She gestured with one hand, then focused on flexing her foot again.

Wolf understood. "A charley horse." Duna looked at him blankly. "We call muscle spasms that. Not sure why."

"You have them too?"

"Used to. Let me a try a thing." He gestured to her afflicted leg. At her nod of permission, he ran his hands along her calf. It wasn't difficult to massage her leg through the armor; the fabric was light and snug enough that he could test the stiffness of her muscles easily. He ran his hands from her ankle to below her knee, pushing and squeezing until he located the tightest area.

"Here, right?"

"Yes." She was watching him closely. "You know what you are doing," she observed.

"I was thinking of doing this for a living, back before ..." He didn't state the obvious disasters. "Sports medicine. A young man's dream. I still remember some things though." He leaned into the tightness, pressing hard with the base of his palm, then rubbing in slow circles. Duna grunted again, and he paused. "Painful?"

"No. I believe it is helping." She flexed her foot again and flinched. "Perhaps a little more."

"No problem. We need to stop here until the rain lets up, at least a little. Try to curl your toes when you flex." He continued to lean into the job, and she wriggled her foot regularly. "You know," he said quietly, eyes focused on his hands, "I wouldn't have made you run like that. You could have been hurt. You should have said something."

"I learned as a child never to fall behind. There was no mercy for us."

They didn't speak for a while. Wolf massaged her calf as if he could rub away both their pasts. He felt the spasm diminish, but he didn't stop massaging the area until she rested a hand on his shoulder. "I think that you have done all that is needed."

He shuffled away, then helped to her to her feet. She tested her condition, dipping slightly, then standing on tiptoes. "I am fit," she announced.

Something nagged at Wolf. "Are you sure? Your leg felt overheated. Inflamed, possibly." He didn't mention how her touch had seared his shoulder, through multiple layers of body armor to brand his skin.

She laughed, and the lids of her minor eyes rippled in what he knew was the equivalent of a blush. "It is a womanly thing," she assured him. "It comes to us thusly. Although I will grant that Cauldros is not helping. Let us seek out my kinsfolk and see if they have advice on how best to survive this weather."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The information from the Nopon is correct, but there is another treasure.
> 
> Next up: Orbit, and there is no way to cheese that prompt to describe these two finding the prisoners and fighting the guards and oh mercy I'm writing that next aren't I ... fight scenes, I HATE fight scenes.


	7. Orbit (Wolf & Duna cont.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Duna sneaky sneaky to meany Prone!
> 
> Don't worry, I didn't write it in Noponese.
> 
> Wolf and Duna belong to Monolith Soft; I'm just playing with the toys.

Wolf and Duna moved carefully, darting low in the open, crouching along the boulders and debris scattered between the lava pools. He hoped to get close enough to the cinder cones before the enemy patrol was active again. The storm had rolled through hard but their armor could handle any remaining sizzling drizzle. A late ember slid along his cheek, and he swatted it away, ignoring the brief sting. Wolf had swapped in some visual cloaking augments before they had left the overhang. If it meant reducing weather defense, then so be it. Anything to keep from alerting the enemy. He was glad he'd convinced Miss Duna to bring along her detested helmet. It might dull her senses but for the moment her organic flesh needed just a little more protection. Wolf didn't worry about more scars himself.

The risky gambit paid off. They were skulking in a tight orbit around the worksite before there was any sign of activity from the other side. Wolf had wondered how they sheltered from the brimstone rain. He got his answer in the form of a brutal shout, followed by a young female Prone lurching out from what looked like a heavy canvas lean-to. The group had built a crude shelter, a large sheet of some non-flammable material stretching down from the tip of the black igneous cone and staked hastily to the ground. It was almost comical how they tumbled out from the narrow shelter, like clowns out of a clown car. It became less funny when the guards stepped out, four in all, shouting at the prisoners and waving their weapons. When one guard kicked the young woman still sprawling on the ground, it stopped being funny at all.

He could feel Duna vibrating with emotion next to him. She beat her fists against her helmet, then froze and crouched lower. He tapped his lips with a finger. Duna stayed motionless, doing her best to remain calm. He wished he could see her expression. Was it fear? Or fury? He went back to scanning the scene.

The prisoners were stumbling back to work, not speedily but not daring to lag either. They were clearly members of the Tree Clan, marked by their blue skin. Their clothes were dirty and worn. They were busy at different tasks, some digging at the cinder cones with trowels or their hands, others hauling the gravel away in crates to a larger bin at the far side of the site. They moved steadily; even the first abused woman had staggered to her feet and joined in the task. Ten of them, eight women and two men. The women were a mix of ages, while the two men were aged and bent.

The canvas of the shelter flapped loosely. There were no more inhabitants of the camp. Ten prisoners. Four guards. One Wolf. Good odds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, because today was busy. I will continue this tomorrow, but I kind of need a break. It's a little intense.
> 
> Next up: Titan. Uh huh. I may swap because I could use this one a few stories from now...


	8. Titan (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Duna are ready to rumble. Well, Wolf is. Treasure, cont.
> 
> Fight scene. I hate writing fight scenes. 
> 
> All the good things (except for this quest and the 14 bonus Prone) belong to Monolith Soft.

Wolf had never pretended that he had the temperament for a sniper rifle. The distance, the cool, he respected that kind of soldier, but he needed to feel closer to the consequences of his actions. Today was the first time he regretted his own make-up. Four guards, separated and distracted by each of their different jobs, that would have been easy work for a sniper, and none of the prisoners would have been endangered.

The prisoners' safety was key. Rather, Duna's safety was key, and he'd never manage the one without the other. He might not care whether NLA got a dozen new xeno citizens, but Duna would think and respond differently. The best idea he had was to go in loud and pull all four soldiers to him as fast as possible. All this stealth would be wasted, but he could see no other way.

He kept his eyes on his opponents, learning what he could of their patterns and capabilities in these last few seconds. He didn't spare a look for Duna. She was a civilian, not a BLADE, and he counted on her knowing this. Still, he hissed a command as he readied his assault rifle. "Stay. Here." He heard the whisper of her knife sliding from its sheath, but she didn't lean forward as he began to edge slowly out from cover. She crouched lower on her heels, leaning against the shelter of the boulder. Good woman. That was the last thought he gave her.

He launched himself into the open, running fast and low at the Prone guard farthest from the prisoners. One spatter of shots and the enemy was on his back. Another moment and Wolf was upon him, finishing the job with his sword. It was a crude and obvious opening, but it was now three to one.

Something punched his shoulder and Wolf was pushed back to the edge of the nearby lava pool. The closest guard lowered his weapon, as accurate as any sniper rifle Wolf could have imagined. "Gotta try and grab that for Sakuraba," though Wolf muzzily. Then he shook himself and took a step forward, pushing himself into a more stable stance. The guard roared in surprise. Clearly he had expected to drop Wolf with that single shot, powerful enough to stagger a lava titan. Wolf felt a tingle of surprise himself.

Given enough experience, a soldier gets to know his armor as well as he knows his own skin. Wolf knew what his helmet, his gloves, his body armor could and could not offer. Something must have malfunctioned in the guard's rifle for a shot that good to leave him standing. His bulky vest hummed slightly. Wolf smiled narrowly. He recognized what had happened.

Miss Duna, obedient to his words, was staying put as instructed. She had also used the technology buried in the handle of her blade to extend the shielding of her own armor, shifting it and wrapping it around Wolf. God bless the Ma-non; the boost was significant. And God bless Duna, to have learned this skill. He wasn't surprised. Miss Duna might not be a fighter, but she protected her people.

Wolf didn't waste any more time with gratitude. He blasted his opponent without hesitation, then sprinted across the encampment. He still had two guards to deal with, and Miss Duna's gift would only last so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent most of the morning trying to decide between sniper and assault rifle. Oh the struggle!
> 
> Next up: Heavenly. It seems a shame to skip all these good prompts, but I am ON A ROLL, PEOPLE! (If you think I have done a prompt dirty, let me know and I will see what I can do later.)


	9. Heavenly (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf fights a few more guards, then everything will be fine, just like I said.  
> Narrator's voice: It was not fine. 
> 
> Fight scenes, slightly graphic violence. (Which isn't very because that is not what I'm good at. Yet.)
> 
> All the good things (except all these extra Prone) belong to Monolith Soft.

Wolf's boots crunched on errant embers as he ran at the remaining guards. Too many prisoners were dashing about for him to feel comfortable using his gun. The guards were running towards him in turn, which made his first sword blow land even harder. It caught the closer of the two Prone flat on the side of his head, not a killing blow, but one calculated to stun an opponent. Exactly as Wolf wanted, because he continued the swing of the sword, up, over, and then relentlessly down. Wolf let himself be pulled upward by the sword's weight, lifting into the air to follow the arc of the heavy blade. Then, in turn, his own bulk helped drag the sword that much deeper into the slower of the two guards. He continued his gymnastics, barreling into a low crouch, thus ducking a blast from the rifle of the nearly recovered first guard. The move looked choreographed, and in a sense it was, with Wolf playing the director. He had sparred often enough with Prone back on the Ma-non ship, peacefully floating high above NLA, and he knew how these people fought at close range. He didn't hesitate to use all of his experience to send his blade deep into his enemy's chest.

It was a risky move though. It took precious heartbeats to yank the sword clear. There remained one guard to neutralize. Wolf had shot him and hit him, but Wolf needed to confirm that he wasn't a threat. As soon as his longsword was free, Wolf spun around and dashed back toward the edge of the work site. A group of prisoners were huddled at the edge of the lava pool. As Wolf approached them they scattered, revealing the task they'd been busily completing.

Wolf looked down at the wreckage of the last guard. The prisoners' hand tools were small but good for more than digging miranium. All the same, Wolf bent low to check that the guard was indeed dead. This done, he stood and turned back toward the remaining Tree Prone. Something told him to do this very slowly and calmly.

The sniper rifle he'd admired from a distance was now pointed at him, still at a distance, less accurately (he hoped), and in the hands of an agitated prisoner. Two other prisoners had armed themselves with weapons from the fallen guards. Wolf was surprised it was only three; he'd have trained his students to grab every possible weapon at the first opportunity.

"Easy. We're the good guys. We're here to rescue you," he said, hands open and raised to his shoulders. Hopefully they found this harmless, not a feint toward the rifle strapped to his back. He wouldn't hold it against them if they they were suspicious, because they wouldn't have been entirely wrong, but it still would bite, to get blown away by one of Duna's treasures. The barrels of the guns swerved to the side. Wolf heard running footsteps behind him. Soft footsteps in narrow boots, the faintest trace of a limp, perhaps only noticeable to Wolf. "NO!" he barked, lunging to block any fire.

It was a miracle that no one got shot in the next minute. The prisoners were shouting conflicting commands. Duna was screaming a string of names, presumably of Prone she recognized. Wolf was dancing between the two parties, stifling swears and trying to catch Duna's attention. Then Duna ripped her helmet from her head to prove who she was. Unfortunately, she clipped Wolf's forehead in the process, hard enough that he saw stars. He was understandably less appreciative of the moment when the prisoners recognized their kinswoman. That didn't mean he was unaware. Half of Cauldros probably heard the racket. Duna launched herself into the group, or maybe they launched themselves at her, and all of them were grabbing, hugging, screaming. Once again, the magical Miran translation service failed to translate this much raw emotion, and to Wolf's ears the group was now babbling and howling in alien syllables. He only recognized Duna's name, over and over, and the names of her father, her grandfather, her siblings.

Wolf didn't try to pretend this was a heavenly choir, but he let them have their moment. He wandered around, pulling the remaining weapons off the unlamented guards, politely collecting the rifles from the distracted prisoners. This done, he cleared his throat pointedly. The reunion was over; time to get their new friends home to NLA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, sure, everybody goes home now. No problem.
> 
> Next up: Visitor.  
> ...  
> ...  
> Narrator's voice: There is a problem.


	10. Visitor (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Duna get to know their new friends. They tidy up and start their walk home. Easy peasy.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but not all these extra Prone.

"We need to go," Wolf said flatly. "The Nopon said there were more soldier Prone by the walls." He waved towards the base of O'rrh Sim castle in the distance. He noted that a few of the prisoners nodded or cringed or otherwise showed signs of agreement. "I don't want to stick around for reinforcements."

Duna looked at him, her arms wrapped around a weeping kinswoman. Her eyes were so full of emotion, they could have contained galaxies, but there were no tears on her face. She pushed the other woman away, hands gentle on her shoulders, and nodded to Wolf. "Agreed, BLADE Wolf."

"Where? Where?!" shouted another woman standing with a cluster of other prisoners. Wolf glared at her. She'd been the one pointing the sniper rifle at him, and she hadn't been particularly gracious about handing it over when he'd asked. "Where will we be safe, that they will not come for us?"

"There is a city," Duna began to explain.

The angry Prone scoffed. "A city, ha! We've heard rumors of it. There is no hope for us there. Cowards will not protect us."

"We've done okay," Wolf said quietly, masking his impatience and irritation. "Beat the Ganglion every place we've decided to stand. Right in their own hangar, when it came to it."

"Liars! Worse than liars! If you can fight so well, where has been our rescue? It has been a year! More! Every day was agony but you could not be bothered."

"Look, lady, we didn't know you guys existed until last night. We didn't even know that. A weird visitor dropped by our city, gave us a hint to hit Cauldros ready for a fight, and here we are. You're welcome."

"It was Sunilla," rasped Duna. "It was her words, though brief and strange, that led us to you."

The angry woman glanced at the woman closest to her. "Sunilla, so full of hope. She couldn't even save herself," muttered that woman quietly. She did not meet Duna's eyes.

"Where is she?"

"She left us months ago, trying to escape," the angry woman added, also avoiding Duna's earnest gaze.

If Wolf weren't bald as an egg, the hairs on his neck would be standing up. Something nasty had happened to poor Sunilla, he was sure of it, something these prisoners didn't want to discuss. "We don't have time for this," Wolf interrupted. "You don't have to like the idea of New Los Angeles, but believe me when I say anywhere is better than staying here. Let's at least put some distance from this place before we start arguing the details."

The angry woman thought for a moment, then nodded shortly. She was clearly something of a leader for these prisoners. "Push that one into the pool." She gestured to the fallen guard that the prisoners had killed. "I assure you, he deserves it. Besides, it is better they don't know everything that happened here, when they catch us." Wolf didn't move, staring her down. After a moment, she pointed to one of the old men. He lumbered over and hurriedly rolled the corpse into the glowing lava. Wolf watched long enough to make sure he didn't have to lend a hand. "Now show the way," she ordered.

"First we return to our skells, our vehicles," explained Duna. She held the hand of the woman she'd been comforting, a frail looking creature that was still weeping. "It is a short enough distance that we can hasten the whole way."

The angry Prone clapped her hands, tentacles firmly set. Not one to give away much info, and not one to let any individual endanger the group, Wolf hazarded. Didn't matter, just so long as she got her sheep to move.

Duna pulled the frail woman with one hand, grasping the hand of another woman with the other, leading the way. Wolf walked at the back of the group, scanning for any new enemy that might choose to appear. The group wasn't moving fast enough for him to feel at all easy. They picked their way along the narrow paths that threaded through the lava pools.

The overpass was in sight, and beyond it the ramp, the skells, the initial journey to safety. Wolf was calculating how far they could carry these passengers before they burnt out an engine. Four in the back, but the males were still bulky enough to count as two. Could they risk flight? Was anyone strong enough to follow on foot for a distance? Were there any away teams still on missions that could help out? He ran through the options, rejecting the worst ones, but leaving the decision open for the moment.

Then the old man walking beside Wolf broke into a run. He caught up to the angry leader and fell to his knees before her. "NOOOOOO!" he bellowed. "You cannot abandon her!"

Wolf immediately knew the journey home had just gotten much, much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least 5 chapters longer, sorry. We still haven't found the treasure.
> 
> Next up: Reborn. I need to name these Prone. Linda. Michaela. Jamar. No.


	11. Crossroads (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf, Duna, and a new friend make their way to the main enemy encampment.
> 
> Typed it, because today has been a day. Stole the prompt from Day 22.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

The older male would not shut up. He was wailing, dragging at the leader, begging the others to help him rescue his daughter. It turned out there was one woman left at the main encampment. For whatever reason, safety or animus, the rest of the group wasn't all that hot on risking their escape to coax her out from under the noses of the remaining soldiers plus the leader of the group. They didn't name him, not even when Duna asked point blank if he was the one called Maroos. Wolf was going to assume he was the same one that Slovity had warned them about.

Wolf balanced the options. He wasn't sure if he could knock this guy out, and besides he couldn't drag even an aged Prone when he outweighed Wolf by a good 100 kilos. Risking the group for one captive was stupid.

"I will lead you there," the frail Prone said, clinging to Duna's hand. "She is my cousin."

The Prone were now in complete confusion, pulling at her, at Duna, threatening the old man, ready to scatter. Wolf glared at the leader and strode up up to her. "You. Your name."

"I am nothing to you."

"I'm Wolf, of New Los Angeles, and I'm going to get your last kinswoman. What's your name?"

"Lefana."

"Look, Lefana. Keep 'em together, get them under the overpass beyond the curve. If you stick to the inner wall, the heat should be okay." He reluctantly handed her the weapons they'd collected from the guards. "Don't shoot us when we all come back."

"There is only one to bring back. Do not waste time, Wolf." He wasn't sure if this was encouragement to haste or a request that he skip the entire quest. He took it in the most positive sense and rejoined Duna.

Duna, Wolf and their guide watched the group move off, then headed east themselves. Wolf insisted they take a detour around the former worksite. No point running into any new hostiles that might be there, alert for an attack and already searching. The frail woman, Tria by name, assured them that no guards would come until meal time, not for hours, but Wolf didn't feel like risking it. She wasn't much help with details of how long they'd been there, the likely setup at the campsite, how best not to alarm the hostage, or any of the other hopeful questions Duna asked her. They got that the remaining woman was called Mekra and was about the same age as Tria. Duna nodded, and whispered to Wolf that she knew the woman but hadn't realized she'd been taken with Sunilla. "She is older than Sunilla, but younger than me." She sighed. "It seems all my kinswomen are younger than me."

Wolf rolled his eyes. "You're not dead yet. Let's keep it that way." They had reached the base of the great ruined city. Huge blocks torn from the facade of the wall tilted along the path. Tria halted and pointed ahead of them. At some distance, on a little spit of sand, there were a few canvas tents, a cooking area, and the forms of Prone moving back and forth. Wolf would have continued but he stopped. This group could not be that stupid to have chosen this location. Anyone approaching them would have plenty of cover. There must be some protection.

"Alarms?"

Tria shrugged and started to shuffle away. "Duna," Wolf ordered, "go with her. Get them all to the skells and head down to the lava pools and north west. If you spot an away team, get their help. Otherwise, keep going down the path to the beach. Best place to get BLADE to extract you, and you'll be safe to wait there. I'll join you as soon as I can."

Duna nodded and started walking back with Tria. Wolf sighed and stepped into the lava pool that lined the pathway. The path might have pressure sensors, but he was pretty sure they didn't expect visitors to come wading through molten rock. He just hoped his boots would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, I have DETAILED notes on how this story should have gone. Why, oh, why did I stop writing it? Oh, right, life.
> 
> Next up: I am pausing because tomorrow's prompt is CHOICE. Friends Are Nopon Now!


	12. Friends are Nopon now!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin, Elma, and Mia are getting a rare honor bestowed on them. Eventually.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

Lin shifted uneasily in the cramped space. Sacks of all kinds dangled overhead, ranging from the size of watermelons to ones that could only hold half a sugar cube, crafted from oily leather or glossy woven leaves or rusty metal mesh. If she moved wrong, she was liable to get a face full of something sharp or sticky or, worst of all, malodorous.

Their hosts had tried to make this caravan tent more comfortable but their ideas of interior decor were different than Lin's. She wasn't thrilled to settle into a pile of leaves, no matter how freshly picked they were. Something small was rustling underneath them, she was sure. That left sitting on the hard-packed dirt. They'd been given extra pillows, but all of those smelled like warm Nopon.

"Do you guys think these are stuffed with Tatsu's siblings?" she whispered to the others.

"I doubt it," Elma said with the ghost of a smile. "I don't hear any snoring."

Lin squirmed a little more, trying to get semi-comfortable. "I wish it weren't taking so long. Everything smells weird." The tent itself was leather, heavily embellished with chunky ferns and feathers cut from locally produced felt.

"Buck up, Lin!" Mia was the third participant, sprawled happily on a sack of squeaking something. "It could be way worse. We could be waiting inside one of their travel shelters."

"You mean inside an actual nopopotomus, right?"

"Yup. I tried it once. Man, the smell on the outside is nothing compared to the smell on the inside. Great for your skin through. Super moisturizing."

Lin took a moment to examine her companions. The caravan had given them outfits that resembled local attire. Accommodations had been made, since they lacked broad wingarms and none were shaped like beach balls. Lin thought the outfit chosen for her was extra girly, with layers of ruffles on the skirt and what probably was a kind of apron made stiff with layers of embroidery, but the vest was okay. She kind of liked the whirl of a broach at the center. She hoped they'd let her keep it when all this was over.

Through the sides of the tent Lin could hear the caravan doing a mass recital of what felt like all of Nopon history. At first Lin had tried to pay attention, but the story jumped around ridiculously. Right after they had cheered about ancient boats dropping from the back of a god and then traveling across the ocean that went on and on and on, they started describing a caravan leader's first contact with the Telethia (it ended badly), then followed by a list of tasty foods (with prices and suggested cooking methods). She'd perked up when Elma poked her. The Nopon were chanting about the arrival of a falling blue city, which must have meant the Habitat Unit that became NLA. She hoped they were getting close to the end, but she was disappointed when they started listing not-so-tasty foods, the first of which was Nopon.

"I'm probably to blame for that part, huh?"

Elma patted her gently, but Mia was enthusiastic. "Cheer up. You're part of Nopon liturgy."

There was a rustling at the door flap of the tent. "Friends ready?" Tatsu whispered loudly.

Lin scrambled to her knees and was crawling for the exit when Elma stopped her. "Your tuft is lopsided, Lin." The older woman carefully tightened the stunted ponytail at the top of Lin's head, pinning the decorative blossom more firmly in place. Mia was doing a similar touch-up to her own honey brown pseudo-tuft. Elma had manged to keep her luxurious and icy tuft in pristine condition.

Thus restored, the three of them emerged carefully through the low entrance. They found themselves surrounded by the entire caravan, plus additional guest from other regions. The whole Nopon community was smiling up at them, like a pool of serene fuzzy Easter eggs. Koko, the leader of the Noctilum caravan and Tatsu's mom, stated proudly, "Dodonga welcomes scary new friends as full members of caravan." The crowd fluttered and bounced in a loud ovation.

Tatsu joined them now that the induction ceremony was complete. He slapped wingarms with every guest that came to congratulate the three BLADEs. "From the way you're acting, you'd think _you_ were the one to become an honorary Nopon," Lin teased him.

"Not honorary. Friends are Nopon now. Linly not have to marry Tatsu to get benefits," he added with exaggerated sadness.

"Ew, no way. I'm not sure what's the bonus for being a caravan member, but that was never gonna happen."

"Very good to be Nopon," Tatsu argued. "Extra good thing."

"We do appreciate the ability to trade on behalf of BLADE," Elma soothed him.

"And the whole mutual aid thing is key," said Mia. "Any time we need to take a break, we can crash at a caravan. That's gonna be so great. Now I don't have to pack a tent every time I go on a mission."

"You're supposed to get home in time to sleep," Lin pointed out.

"You'd think so, but you'd be surprised how often that doesn't happen."

"Anyway, I'm sure it's all great." Lin considered a moment. "Hey, I think I do feel like a real Nopon. Tatsu, where's the food?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun! Last [Inktober](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13400000/8/Inktober-2019) I actually turned Lin into a Nopon (and Vandham, and Irina...) for a similar prompt.
> 
> Next up: Collectopedia. Should I return to Wolf and Duna, or should I take a longer break?


	13. Miracle (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Duna spot something important.
> 
> The prompt is from day 24. 
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except this camp full of Prone.

The location of the enemy encampment was a brilliant choice. A single narrow path in, watched by two guards. Broad lava pools on the rest of perimeter, with a heavy infestation of large and irritable indigen that would slow incoming skells. The walls of O'rrh Sim Castle rose smooth behind the narrowest pool, broken and inaccessible at the distant heights. No one was coming to cause trouble from the ground or the air. No one, except a singe figure quietly wading through the lava pools and hoping like anything that he was small enough not to trigger the ire of a dozing lava fish.

As soon as he could, Wolf hugged the castle walls, taking advantage of a submerged ledge that prevented the need for dog paddling in lava. Sakuraba made sweet augments but there had to be a limit. He was aiming for what was clearly the back side of the camp, the place where unneeded supplies and garbage collected. He reached a chunk of collapsed balustrade that rose from the lava and ducked behind it, hoping that no further architectural decay happened for the next few minutes. From this angle, the few crude shelters blocked a full view of the camp. Wolf had to be patient.

He also need to wait for the even smaller, even quieter figure to catch up to him. Duna crouched in his shadow a few moments later.

"You were supposed to stay with your people," he growled quietly.

"I am," she whispered back.

"Tria?"

"On her way to the group. Do you see her?"

He didn't need to answer. A woman stepped from one of the shelters, carrying a stack of bowls in one arm and balancing a large tray on her hip. The camp was having its version of a late lunch. Blue and clearly tired, she paused for a moment, then straightened herself and fluttered her tentacles into a playful expression before presumably moving to serve the guards.

Wolf tried to figure the best move. There was no way to carry the prisoner safely across the lava, so he'd have to punch an escape route through the camp. He hated to admit it, but having Duna with him made it possible. Instead of having to protect the hostage all the way out, he could send the two woman ahead of him.

Wolf pointed to the woman. "Mekra?" They saw her darting around the camp, back and forth. The pile of bowls had diminished. Wolf had counted at the start. Five guards, unless the watch duty weren't eating, in which case seven. He hoped the captors didn't chose to delay their meals.

"I cannot tell, but maybe. I think so."

"Okay. We get up on the ground there, behind the cook house. When she comes back, you call to her and get her to you. Quietly. Clamp a hand on her mouth if necessary."

"I know how to keep my people quiet."

"Once she's with you, I'm going to have to start another fight. A big one. Get her out and to the skells and do not stop."

"No."

"Who's the team leader?" Duna was silent, staring at the camp. Wolf continued, "I'll catch up. If I don't, you know what ..."

Duna grabbed his arm so tightly that he winced. Her eyes were fixed on the camp, and her tentacles were flickering wildly. Wolf followed her gaze.

Another Prone had exited the cooking tent. Not another woman, not a guard. It was a small child, very young. It wouldn't have come up much above Wolf's knee. Crudely clothed in only a scrap of rags, it toddled behind the woman with a bowl in its tiny hands. It disappeared for a moment, but then they heard shouts, and what might be the sound of blows, the shriller voice of the female prisoner telling the child to make himself scarce. Mekra appeared, pushing the little one none too gently toward the cook house. The child skipped uncertainly for a moment, then settled behind the trash heap, hidden from the greater camp but in perfect view of Wolf and Duna. The child played with the empty bowl for a moment, rolling it along the dirt, then set it right side up and began to scoop imaginary food from it with his hands.

He was grey like the Cavern guards, but the edges of his skull shone with traces of pale blue.

Wolf dared to think something, same as he was sure Duna was thinking. That spectral blue matched the color of their eerie visitor on the Ma-non ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's why.
> 
> Reminder that the start of this story is [Treasure of O'rhh Sim](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12493612/1/The-Treasure-of-O-rrh-Sim). See chapter 2 for the most beautiful pale blue Prone on Mira.
> 
> Next up: Preparations, or I'll just cheese some prompt stuff. Honestly, this collection is becoming Wolf&Dunatober and I'm at peace with that.


	14. Preparations (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Duna move quietly into the camp, ready to rescue the two prisoners.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but not these extra Prone.

The two of them watched silently until the child, obedient to a call from the main camp, snatched up his empty bowl and hurried out of sight. Wolf glanced at Duna. Her eyes weren't asking a question, but he answered anyway. "Yeah, I saw, and yeah, we will." He calculated rapidly, then continued. "Plan stays the same, except before I go off we get Mekra to call him to you. Can you handle both of them?"

Duna's eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, her major tentacles tracing the shape that Wolf always thought looked like clasped hands. He allowed her time for one deep breath. She was as composed as ever when he nudged her to indicate they should move.

The trash heap shielded them from view as completely as the previous rubble, but Wolf felt jumpy, knowing the guards were only a sword strike away. He listened and thought he could distinguish four gruff voices plus Mekra's. He knew there had to be more, Tria had managed to give them that much confused information, but he hoped it wasn't much worse. He pointed ahead, a single snap of his finger, and they slipped like shadows a few steps closer, stopping at the back edge of the cooking tent.

The first contact went down smoothly. When Mekra returned with an empty tray, first Wolf, then Duna waved to her. After one squeaking yelp and a spoon dropped soundlessly into the dirt, Mekra rushed to Duna. Wolf admired how few whispered words it took for Duna to explain the situation, at least enough so that they could continue. All that was left was to get the kid to return to the back of the camp without raising suspicions.

Mikra refused to help.

"You only need call him, as to a task," Duna encouraged her gently.

Mikra only shook her head in silent refusal, her tentacles devoid of any playful curls that she had spared for the guards. She edged away from them, farther towards the trash heaps and lava pool that bordered the camp.

"But he is Sunilla's child," Duna whispered desperately.

The woman scoffed. Wolf was reminded of the prisoner leader's response earlier. "I never put my trust in her when she was alive. I will not die for her..."

Wolf cut her off with a hissed warning. Maybe she fell silent because she recognized the expression on his face, despite it being so flat and alien to her. More likely it was the rifle he'd readied that told her she'd said enough. He gestured to the two women, waving them back towards the edge of the camp.

"Wolf. We need to rescue him." When he didn't answer, Duna said his name again.

"I'll get him for you," he assured her. "Even if I have to toss him at you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. There will be no toddler yeeting. These next bits may continue to be short because that's about all I can manage before I start to chicken out.
> 
> Next up: Heart-to-heart, which works pretty well for what comes next.


	15. Heart to Heart (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf manages to get the kid to join the plan. It takes more than he expected.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except for the kid.

Wolf didn't want to make a move until he knew where exactly the kid was located. He silently rummaged in a pocket of his vest, fishing out a small mirror. Maybe he could use it to get a sneaking view of whatever was around the cook tent. On the other hand, he really didn't want to expose himself by moving any farther than the back corner. He figured he could duck into the tent without drawing attention, maybe find a gap to peer through.

He got lucky. Before he had to try anything, the kid toddled back around the edge of the tent. He saw Wolf and froze. Wolf was glad that he was already in a crouch, not standing. He hoped he was less threatening that way. Nothing to be scared of, if the kid ignored Wolf's strange pale color and complete lack of head tentacles, and, yes, the assault rifle ready in one hand. Maybe the kid wouldn't recognize it as a weapon. Unlikely, given how heavy and ugly the weapon was. Wolf tried not to think about his own ugly face, disfigured by a scar and with a tight, mean mouth; even humans found it intimidating.

"Psst, kid. Come here," Wolf whispered. He tried to sound friendly.

The kid quite rightly did not go to Wolf. He didn't scream and run away either. Wolf grudgingly approved of this, even if the little dude was getting in the way of the plan.

"Come here," Wolf repeated. "I have a quick question," he added.

The kid shifted uneasily on his tiny feet.

"Your mom ... Sunilla ... she said to ask you," Wolf whispered.

The kid startled and took a step away, clutching the empty bowl to his narrow chest. This wasn't good.

"Please." Wolf tried not to sound desperate. "Come on."

It wasn't working. The kid was definitely backing away. Not stupid, this kid, but not what Wolf so desperately needed. If he grabbed the kid, the guards were bound to notice and Wolf would lose precious seconds. Duna would lose precious seconds. Time was so precious now, the real treasure for this mission. The most important treasure. The / _prenar_ /. The one word in the Prone language that Wolf knew. The word that Sunilla's spirit or ghost or messenger (or whatever that weird figure on the Ma-non ship had been) had repeated so many times, the thing she had called for, over and over.

Wolf looked at the kid, feverish with realization. "Prenar," he whispered carefully, trying to remember how Duna had said it when they'd realized that each had heard the other's language unaided by the planet Mira. "Please, Prenar, come here."

The kid stepped toward Wolf.

One tiny step, maybe only half a step, then a second. One more step and then the kid was running in his wobbly baby way, straight for Wolf. He'd dropped his precious bowl. Nothing was going to slow this kid down now. Wolf put out his free arm to grab him, but the kid shot right past Wolf, both of his own skinny arms wide open. Wolf turned fast enough to see it, the moment that Prenar ran straight into the outstretched arms of Miss Duna Valdileo, once again crouching behind Wolf instead of waiting in safety.

Wolf saw it happen, and nothing changed in his brain. No recalculation, no examination of risks. There was nothing to note, nothing to surprise him. This was as normal as gravity, as unexceptional as time, as destined as his next breath. Duna was holding the child tight, whispering soft words that meant nothing. Mostly the child's name, over and over. The kid had a strangle hold on Duna's neck, his little face tucked against her cheek. His stubby baby tentacles were curling and recurling around hers, as if neither could grasp the other enough times.

Wolf looked at them and his heart was unchanged. How can a heart be changed when the truth has always been waiting there?

He motioned to Duna, pointing back to the edge of the camp, crooking a finger towards the far right edge that was the planned escape route. Duna looked straight at Wolf. Her face was the purest blue, deep and bright, every freckle shining dark on her skin. There was nothing ghostly about her. "Prenar," she whispered, looking at Wolf for only one heatbeat. Then she ran, carrying the child in her arms.

Wolf snapped his gaze back to the space between the tents. There was still no movement from the main camp, but he could hear guards talking now, joking after their meal. He dropped the mirror back into his pocket, made sure his sword was ready to draw, rechecked his rifle, and took his last destined breath.

Then he started the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse me, I need another tissue. Must be smoke from the wildfires.
> 
> Next up: Regret. Oh joy, I get to start writing fight scenes [sarcasm, because this is mostly why I stopped writing it many years ago].


	16. Regret (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf starts a riot.
> 
> Harm and violence. Badly written fight scenes.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except these extra Prone.

Wolf rolled into the center of the camp, blasting a wide spray in the general direction of where he had heard the lunch voices. He noted their numbers: five, matching the bowls he'd counted. It was a rough count, maybe off by a head or two either way. He only wanted to slow them down, make them hurt. He'd come back for them in a second.

He kept moving toward his real target: the men guarding the narrow path leading in and out of the camp. It was imperative that he clear the exit route for Duna and the child before doing anything else. To Wolf's unholy joy, there was only one guard standing there during the lunch break. He didn't know who to thank as he charged toward the Prone, especially when he saw he was armed with a sort of blaster. Great for distances, sucked for close range, exactly where Wolf was and getting closer. The only thing that stopped Wolf's run was the guard's spine as Wolf's sword went straight through. Miss Duna could thank her people's Great Tree for him later.

Wolf had overdone it. The sword was lodged and wasn't going to slide smoothly out. Something made Wolf spin the guard around in a macabre twirl that left no space for the Holy Spirit, tugging on the hilt all the while. The Prone gurgled and struggled feebly, then sagged as a sudden impact pulsed through his chest, pushing both of them to the very edge of the lava pool. Wolf was on notice now that the other group had found their weapons. He wasn't happy to use the body as a shield, but if the enemy insisted, he wasn't going to argue. More shots pushed him back toward the lava's edge until he felt his heels sizzle, but meanwhile he had managed to get his sword free.

He had cleared the exit, but he needed to keep the rest of the Cavern away from the path. Wolf fired off another blast, even less effective than the first. That was fine with him. All he wanted to do was remind them that he was their biggest issue, not any fleeing figures that might flicker at the edges of their attention.

The two sides met at the center of the camp and Wolf had to dodge a brutal slab of a sword before putting every gram of his weight into a swirling, lifting attack. He rocketed upwards, slashing every enemy repeatedly. As he landed he transitioned smoothly into another circular attack, one that singed everything near him. Perhaps it wasn't as impressive to see in Cauldros, where there were cascades of lava around every corner, but he'd started the thermal attack as he was still falling, roughly at Prone eye level. Hopefully he'd blinded a few of them temporarily.

He'd done better than that. One of the guards was on his hands and knees, moaning senselessly. Another was face first on the ashy ground, motionless. Wolf dashed around a roaring guard, getting another barrage of shots off at a different opponent. One more sword strike, a simple backstab, and the remaining guard stopped roaring.

The space around Wolf, a moment ago nothing but confusion and violence, was now weirdly empty. This gave him a clear view of the last Cavern Prone as he rose from the crate he'd patiently been sitting on. The enemy stood up, stood up, stood up some more. Wolf was mesmerized. The Prone blocked the entire horizon. He was the largest enemy that Wolf had ever faced. He towered over Wolf, leaving the puny human in pure shadow dark as night. Surrounded by lava, Wolf felt winter in his marrow. There was not even the slightest chance of victory against this challenger.

Wolf shook his head to clear his mind, but the effect had been sufficient. The Prone punched Wolf in the chest, and it was only the combination of excellent body armor and metallic ribs that kept Wolf from being impaled on a meaty fist.

Wolf struggled to fill his lungs. He let himself tip to the side, partly to avoid the follow-up blow, partly because that was all he could manage at the moment. His mouth filled with something nasty, but a smile was creeping onto his face. Wolf knew his armor, knew what it could and couldn't do. There hadn't been any assistance this time. For the first time during this mission, Miss Duna Valdileo must actually be following his instructions. She had gotten away, was even now putting distance between herself and this monster. Wolf just needed to see how many more seconds of a head start he could buy her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Start a Riot" getting me through this. Also thank you to Lune, Aresd, and Zalosta for ideas on how to do this. Good tunes, a sketch, and choreography to the rescue.
> 
> Next up: Future, which I can work with.


	17. Future (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf versus really big Prone enemy, named Maroos, cont.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but not Maroos and any amount of tactical head canon.

Wolf ducked, or maybe he staggered, out of the way of the follow-up punch. By the time the big man (it had to be the leader Maroos, it just had to be), by the time he'd slung out a brutal sword, Wolf had hit the emergency repair pack built into his armor. It was enough to get him steady on his feet, an advantage of the mim form, but Wolf knew full well that it was temporary. Hopefully Maroos wouldn't get a chance to find out that fact, because Wolf had another little trick.

He swung his own sword in a wide arc, barely slashing the air in front of Maroos' chest. Didn't matter that he hadn't made contact. Wolf's act of misdirection would have made any stage magician proud. On the end of the downswing, a sliver of metal shook out of Wolf's sleeve. It was only a wink of light, unnoticeable as a broad blade was tracing the same area, and it landed neatly at Maroos' boots. Now Wolf had to keep Maroos happy and standing in the same spot for five, four, three...

Maybe taking a slice to the shoulder wasn't the best method of preventing Maroos from stepping away, but it was effective. Wolf wasn't happy that it was his bad shoulder, injured during an ill-considered vacation months ago, but on the other hand he already favored the other side so it wasn't the complete disaster it could have been.

...two, one. The blast lifted Maroos backwards, as if a giant cartoonish hand (possibly attached to a former chief engineer) had yanked him by the collar and pulled him away from Wolf. It was a tasty little trick. Wolf was already sprinting along the narrow path out of the camp before Maroos hit the sand.

Wolf had counted down before the explosion. Now he was counting up, every second getting him a little more distance. He'd have to decide which way to go once he reached the main shore, but that was a problem for the very near future. Eight, nine, ten, eleven... The strip of sand joined the main bank of land and Wolf turned east, towards the Castle, away from the overpass and Duna. Anything to buy her more ... fifteen, sixteen...

All he heard was his own breath and the numbers in his head. Then a massive Prone plunged down out of thin air and landed with a crunch in the igneous dirt, directly in front of Wolf. "What are you, part Milsaadi?" Wolf complained, or he would have, but there was a blur of a missile, or maybe a fist, aimed straight for Wolf's neck. Wolf swerved instinctively toward the lava. It was a good choice since he evaded the blow, but he knew immediately that it was a temporary salvation. The lava would slow him enough to make him a perfect target. Bonus problem: something in his armour must have broken due to that original massive hit. His mind was almost wiped clean by the pain in his legs from the heat.

He needed to get back onto shore quick, but not so quick that Maroos could use it to his advantage. Wolf took two agonizing steps away from shore, fired a round at Maroos, then leaped with everything he had back toward land.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alley oop! Shoulder injury mentioned in [Three Sapphire Horns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26322376), shameless plug is shameless.
> 
> Short because life. Next time there will be dialogue, I promise.
> 
> Next up: Loneliness. I may cheese that. Day 29 Friendship, maybe. Trust me, it would work.


	18. Friendship (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Maroos continue to fight, slashy slashy stab stab.
> 
> Fight scenes and violence. Prompt from Day 29
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except Maroos of course.

One of Wolf's attacks must have done real damage to Maroos, the giant Prone that the prisoners had feared to name and that even the Ganglion reportedly shunned as too brutal. He didn't rush at Wolf when the human reached the solid, non-molten ground. Wolf readied himself for shots or some other distance strike. That wasn't what happened. A creeping horror sucked at Wolf's neck, and the sky darkened into an airless bowl. Wolf felt sickened and shamed and utterly helpless. Wolf stared at the increasingly menacing Prone, now approximately the size of the castle itself. "Knock it off and fight for real," Wolf snarled before firing at a dimple of shadow on the ground. He couldn't see Maroos, not really, but Wolf had noticed where the light changed around the enemy's feet and hoped that the inflection indicated where the man truly stood.

The effect lifted, not completely, but Wolf felt less like lying down and surrendering and more like throwing his life away senselessly. He was okay with that version of the outcome, just so long as the rest of the group was able to escape. To be honest, just so long as Duna and Prenar escaped. The effect lifted a touch more, and Wolf considered that he'd prefer it not to be himself that threw away his life. He swung at the spot that his xeno trainees forgot to defend until he'd sparred with them repeatedly. If BLADE didn't know about Maroos, maybe Maroos didn't know that much about BLADE and what they could do.

It was like hitting a solid cliff, but at least Wolf didn't imagine the impact. He elbowed Maroos for good measure as he swung the blade back for another blow, targeting a spot that was notoriously soft in Prone, no matter the armor. Maybe he shouldn't have done that. Maroos changed his stance to one that was far too similar to one that Wolf and the xeno/BLADE training team had developed after weeks of sparring. Wolf blasted with his rifle and jumped out of reach any punch.

"You fight like a woman," Maroos sneered.

Wolf tucked that info away for later, because that was honestly a great idea, getting the handful of ex-Ganglion Cavern women living in NLA to teach humans any fighting methods they'd developed. Wolf also guessed that the debilitating effect of Maroos' control must have worn off if he was starting to plan for a life back in NLA.

Wolf started to circle his opponent slowly, inching to the right. Maroos raised his sword and Wolf dodged left. Maroos had been expecting that and swung hard at the human. Wolf hadn't hoped to fool his opponent, not again. Wolf hadn't ignored the way Maroos had kept his feet pointed against the direction Wolf had moved, ready to strike the other way. Wolf shot forward with extra speed, careless and hopelessly inaccurate, dropping almost to the ground. He didn't escape all of the strike, but most of the energy had been spent before it connected. Wolf pushed himself off the ground, almost bouncing, and jabbed upwards. He was close enough to skim Maroos' ribs and plant the sword deep enough in the Prone's armpit to hurt but not so deep that Wolf couldn't get the blade free. He'd made that mistake already, not five minutes ago. If he had to make mistakes, Wolf wanted to make new ones.

"Flee, worm." The Prone's arms were hanging at his sides, the sword's tip resting on the ground.

Wolf spat something blue and foamy onto the dark sand. He couldn't feel the wound on his back, but the personal patch was wearing off much faster than he'd hoped. He ran straight at Maroos, to be surprised by a sweeping kick that flung him back to the lava edge again. New mistakes, Wolf reminded himself.

Maroos looked behind Wolf. "Your servants have left you."

Wolf did not turn around to check. He was almost insulted that Maroos thought such an old trick would work. He was shaken all the same. If it was true that Maroos had seen the skells carrying Duna and her people, then it meant the Prone knew the direction they were going. Even if he had seen nothing, he could still revive some of his guards and track the escapees. There was no chance that Wolf would leave this fight and allow that to happen.

"Run back to your city. We will come for you in time." Maroos' voice coaxed and tickled in Wolf's brain. "Raise that mongrel and I will come and kill him at your own gates. Make sure you raise him strong. Let me not be ashamed when I strike him down." Wolf saw the outcome as if it had already occurred.

New. Mistakes. The words ground through his addled brain, and he blocked the fears that felt truer than the sword in his hand. Wolf stared wild-eyed at Maroos and said slowly, "Prenar won't be fighting alone." His voice was uncertain and he cursed himself for uttering such a stupid lie, but he repeated it all the same. "He won't ever be alone," he added, and the control cracked.

"I will strike you all down. You before the mongrel, the mongrel before you, your pretty servant before you both, it doesn't matter. You will know your fate."

"Like this?" Wolf darted forward and landed a blow that put doubt as to the victor of any future battle. It should never have connected; Maroos had blocked far worse at the camp.

"No!" Maroos' counter attack again rocked Wolf backwards, but it was noticeably weaker. "Run now, human."

Wolf stood his ground. The images of an inevitable loss snapped and jeered in his mind, but the Prone didn't know what the gates of NLA looked like. Wolf did. Wolf knew the faces of the BLADEs watching from the gates and from the streets and from the walls. He knew the weapons they held in their hands, down to the manufacturer and make. He knew Duna's face and what she held in her hands. Maroos wasn't getting anywhere near the city or the child.

New mistakes. Wolf judged his injuries and lowered his sword a fraction. He had time for one last new mistake. "There's a third way."

"Only one way. Your death, and his."

"Or yours. Or something else."

"There is nothing else."

"There's always something else. How about you join my city?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they all had cookies and milk. Boy do I hope so, because I am so SICK of fight scenes.
> 
> Next up: Crisis, which works pretty well.


	19. Crisis (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf suggests that Maroos join NLA as an ally. They have a chat over tea and cookies [sarcasm].
> 
> Dialogue! Yayyyyy!
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but not Maroos.

"There's always something else. You could join the city."

Wolf watched his opponent carefully. He had no idea whether Maroos would believe him. He wouldn't be surprised if he didn't. Wolf was just a beat-up soldier, worn and scarred; nothing about him hinted at some special authority to make such an offer. But he had ventured all the way into Cauldros, and he was speaking to Maroos as one leader to another. NLA had yet to meet a xeno it didn't want as an ally. He hoped Maroos had heard about the Wrothians, the Definians, the few other Cavern Prone.

"Never."

It wasn't a great start, but Wolf wasn't going to give up after only one word. "Really? Is your loyalty to the Ganglion that strong? You seem more like an independent element to me."

Maroos tossed his head back with a blast of dismissive laughter. "I will not become a captive."

"Citizen," Wolf corrected him.

"A spectacle. My troops would have every right to despise me."

"I hate to say this, but y'all didn't do so well today. Come and join the city, for yourself and for what troops remain. Others have done so..."

"I know that one," the Prone sneered. "I won't contaminate my mouth with the name of that weakling wh..."

Wolf cut him off, raising his sword again. "Speak carefully. Slovity's on my team now, even if she's not my favorite. She's the one that gave us your name. Maroos." This was hardly a guess, not this late in the fight.

"I will kill her too, when I reach your city."

Wolf was juggling his fatigue, his injuries, and his hopes for a good ending. "Long list, and you won't get through the any of it. Not one name." Both were stalling, stalling for time. Even if Wolf didn't get a new best friend, all this talk was sifting more sand into the glass, giving Duna more time to escape. He hoped he wasn't giving Maroos too much time to rally. He lowered his sword again, spinning out the negotiation. "Join us."

"No. I will come and fight you, you and that traitor. Your servant and the mongrel. I will test how well you raised him by how many blows it takes to strike him down." The Prone swelled in Wolf's vision. He'd regained his ability to control Wolf's mind.

Wolf shook his head. It wasn't taking this time. Maybe he'd gotten used to it, or maybe Maroos was still too injured. Or maybe the thought of the child acted as a shield for Wolf's soul. Maroos remained the biggest Prone that Wolf had ever seen, but he wasn't a supernatural threat. "You'll be the loser."

"You think he will triumph? Ha!"

"I'll won't let it happen. A son shouldn't fight his father. Much less a father his ..."

"He is not my son. He is nothing to me."

Liar, thought Wolf. If the captive Prone gave me the hint, you just made it obvious. No one spits out the truth that fast and breathing that hard. That child is yours. "You won't kill him."

"There is only one way to make sure of that, human. Here and now." When Wolf made no response, the Prone sneered again. "Or you could run today and we can meet on different ground tomorrow."

Wolf lifted his sword, but the urge to flee was strong. He wasn't sure if it was his own desire or a forced suggestion. Maroos might be pushing him towards that choice. The Prone wouldn't be talking if he felt that fighting was a better option. His enemy must be just as injured as Wolf, probably more. Wolf was hurt, but he was stable. The Prone took a step toward Wolf, but only a short one. Wolf wouldn't even have to get past Maroos. All he had to do was turn around and run as fast as his mimeosome legs could carry him, which was respectably fast. After the first minute, Maroos would never catch up.

Until Maroos inevitably arrived at the gates of NLA.

The fight was going to happen, here or later. Wolf would win either way, but it wouldn't be easy if it happened today. Maroos was clearly messing with Wolf's mind again. Every one of Wolf's systems was screaming with pain, an ever increasing wave of agony. If he fought here, he would win but he might not make it home. He remembered Duna and Prenar, how they had clung to each other. He wanted to see them again, but how could Wolf bring himself to look at Prenar, knowing he'd killed Maroos?

Then he thought about facing this enemy at the gates of New Los Angeles. Asking his trainees to feel the wrenching ache he felt in his ribs right now, and that weird slipping sensation even as he gripped his weapon harder. Asking Duna to take the shot. Asking Prenar.

Wolf leapt toward Maroos, his snarl matching his opponent's thunderous roar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's up Danger" getting me through this, even if Wolf is about the exact opposite of Miles Morales (such a good movie).
> 
> Next up: Eternity. I can cheese that.


	20. Eternity (Wolf & Duna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, I hate writing fight scenes. I sweated through three of them. So let's all assume that Wolf wins. Now he has to walk to the bus stop.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except the extra Prone, none of whom show up in this.

Wolf wouldn't call his return journey a run. Maybe a light jog, or a fast march, on the double. When he found himself staggering, twice, it was only because the fresh embers from the earlier brimstone rain left the ground treacherous. Otherwise, he was moving swiftly and surely, back to the landing spot where the skells had been parked originally.

He had told Duna to meet him on the beach, but what if she hadn't been able to get there? What if there had been a problem with the skells? That was quite the number of Prone to load into two skells, not to mention being short one pilot. There were 10 of them, Wolf thought, or was it 11? Did Prenar count as a passenger? Did the males count double because of their weight? No one was wearing armor besides Duna, which should reduce the payload. Years ago, during a disaster response on Earth, a flood that submerged several towns, he'd seen skells marching through the waters, loaded with entire families crammed in the back carriers, with bonus civilians draped over the shoulders. That was before flight packs and extra back weaponry. His mind slipped and buzzed but he couldn't do the math to decide whether they could all get away.

He wasn't moving swiftly or well. He was blind with fatigue as he forced himself up the incline to the cliff overlooking the lava pools. When he reached the top, he swiped at his eyes to clear his vision. There was nothing to block the view of the bronze walls of O'rrh Sim. The skells were gone. He stood there, swaying, for what felt like an eternity, before he started a careful inspection of the area. The ground was trampled with Prone-shaped footprints, mostly small slippered feet mixed with a few huge ones. He spotted the pattern of a pair of BLADE boots. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, then lowered himself onto one knee to verify what he'd seen. Yeah, those were skell boots, slim and soft and almost without tread. Duna had made it.

There weren't any child-sized prints though. All around the spot where he now rested the Prone had milled and paced, but Prenar hadn't been there. He looked again, crawling along the paths that Duna's boots had made. There she had stood, directly facing another woman's prints, and unless he was mistaken she'd stamped her foot angrily, more than once. There she had guided a group to the back of where his skell had been parked, probably helping them to get loaded. A similar confusion of footprints met at the back of her skell. Then he saw it, two tiny footprints, each toe perfectly etched in the dirt. She had finally set Prenar down, just for a moment, as she opened the pilot's capsule.

That was good, real good. He could take a break now. He sat on flattened grass, head resting on his knees. His jaw was clamped tighter than a nutcracker, that unkind nickname trainees whispered behind his back. He'd get up in a second, drag his way down to the beach where they were waiting for him. Or it might be empty, if they'd been lucky enough to hook up with a loose team. He had no problem with waiting there, maybe patch himself up a little, before deciding what to do next. But for the moment, he'd earned himself a little break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternity. Exactly how long I've been writing this! Also how long it's been riding around in my head! We aren't done yet! We will never be done!
> 
> Discussion of Duna's armor was a fun time in Ch. 4 of The Treasure of O'rrh Sim. Shameless plug is shameless.
> 
> Next up: Weapon. This prompt deserves better but it won't get it.


	21. Weapon (Wolf & Duna, end)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf gets a lift from some friends.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except the treasure.

Wolf heard the engines of the craft before it came into sight, the steady burn of a heavy vehicle. Might be skell, might be Ganglion. Some force other than himself had him on his feet and rifle at the ready. He didn't lower it when the thing swung over the horizon. Black with flickers of red, it was the heavy skell he'd been assigned in NLA at the beginning of this long, long day. It felt like 4 years since they'd left the city, not the handful of hours. Seeing the skell didn't bring him comfort. He wasn't going to think that everything was fine until he knew for sure who the pilot was and why they were there.

They weren't a BLADE, he knew that before the skell landed. The pilot had managed both to clip the cliff's edge and overshoot the ground level, rising far too high into the sky, begging for attention from local Ganglion. It bashed through some bare trees, scattering a cloud of twigs, as it swung jerkily toward Wolf. None of the default weapons were lit up, that was a comfort, but Wolf started to wonder if it intended to stomp him. The pilot jerked the skell back in time to avoid bashing Wolf, but they kicked up serious dust in the process. The craft landed with an inelligent single-footed hop, finally stopping half-way up a broad rock slab.

Wolf reconsidered whether the pilot might not be BLADE after all, because he'd seen similar parking skills outside the Repenta on a lively Friday. He adjusted the aim of his rifle, forcing his hands to keep steady, because his fatigue was making him slap happy.

The pilot's capsule opened, and long, attractive legs swung down, clad in black and gold skell gear. The boots were familiar in spite of all the new scuffs and damage. Wolf scrambled to keep the rifle from slipping from his hands in relief. He shouldn't have worried about his weapon, because he was now starting to tilt himself. His knees weren't doing a great job of holding him up.

"Wolf!" Before he knew it, Duna was propping him up, an arm tight around his waist. She had her other arm around Prenar. The little boy was riding on her hip as if he was welded there, and his slender baby tentacles were fluttering with fear.

"Sorry, hang on," Wolf mumbled. He coughed hard and pulled himself together. It wouldn't do to scare the kid any more than he had to. His ugly mug was probably enough to give a little Prone nightmares. He managed to step away from Duna, although he left a friendly hand on her shoulder. He tried not to lean on her in a way that Prenar would notice.

Duna jiggled Prenar and intertwined her free arm with Wolf's. "See, Prenar, he is here and ready for us. I'm glad we didn't make him wait."

Wolf shook his head is resignation. "You were supposed to stay at the beach."

"We wanted to save you the extra steps. Besides, Prenar was worried, weren't you, little one?" Prenar nodded and tucked his head shyly into Duna's neck. He peeped at Wolf with his minor eyes, then ducked his head again.

"Fine. Let's go."

Duna had to help him into the pilot's capsule, discretely providing a boost. She did not comment when he twisted into the pilot's seat. He likewise didn't say a word as she snapped herself into the jump seat next to him, juggling Prenar the entire time. The capsule remained silent as Wolf ran through the safety checklist, fast and probably inaccurately, then lifted the skell off the ground.

"You got tired of the Ares?" he asked as he aimed the skell towards the beach road.

"I believe I burned out its engine. Typical puny human design. Prone cargo is more than it can manage."

"Your males are something when it comes to bulk. Everyone safe?" Unnecessary, but he had to ask.

"Yes. They are on the water's edge. I called in to the ECP and then came back for you. Make sure you swing wide to the ocean before landing," she advised him.

"Why?"

"That is the agreed signal that all is well."

"You should have stayed."

"I will not leave you behind."

He wasn't going to argue. "Stupid choice, but thanks. I'm tired." The skell veered slightly, a hint that Wolf was more than tired.

Duna stripped off a glove and pressed her hand on his injured shoulder. Wolf hissed involuntarily. He covered his weakness by saying in his strictest trainer's voice, "Don't mess with your armor until we're safe for sure."

Prenaar whimpered quietly. Wolf added quickly, "No, no, I'm just being a ... stickler. We'll be okay. We might need to pause to patch me up when we get there." He tried to chuckle softly, but it came out as a slight choking noise. He was fighting another wave of dizziness. He should have let Duna pilot, although he wasn't sure Prenar would have let Wolf hold him. Oh well, they could have slung Wolf in the back compartment. "Okay if I stay close to the ground? I'm, uh..."

"You could stay fully on ground. There shouldn't be many enemies left," Duna advised him. "I think I shot them all on the first trip."

"You didn't use Aghasura Canon on the visigel did you?"

"I used everything it had. Maybe I did not burn out the engines. Maybe I ran out of fuel," she admitted. "I was not paying the most attention."

Dammit, he shouldn't be laughing, not least because it kind of hurt. He settled the skell onto the ground and let it march in its automatic rhythm. He felt something tickle his earlobe. He turned slightly to see Prenar's curious glance. He swung his eyes back toward the road. The tickle returned, a tiny poke, a tiny flick.

"Prenar. Do not distract the driver!" Duna chided gently.

"It's okay. Helps me stay awake," Wolf said.

Sure enough there wasn't an enemy left unburnt on their way down the slope to the beach. Duna had blasted everything from tiny floating gelatinous visigel to reinforced Ganglion encampment. When they reached the water's edge Wolf had recovered enough that he was able to maneuver the skell back into the air without trouble. The skell skimmed out onto the ocean waters. Wolf wanted to linger out in that neutral peace, away from the heat and violence, away from any complications and decisions, just him and Duna and a tiny child, cuddling in Duna's lap and flick flick flicking Wolf's earlobe.

He turned the skell towards land with a resigned sigh.

"Are we still in danger?" Duna asked. The tickling stopped, replaced by a tiny worried grab.

Wolf shook his head softly so as not to dislodge small blue-grey fingers. "No one was following me. Last I saw, they were struggling to get back on their feet. We'll be behind city walls and safe before you know it."

"You didn't …"

"We'll talk. Main point: don't worry about them following"

Duna detangled Prenar from Wolf's ear and cuddled the child closer. "He wouldn't leave me."

"And you wouldn't leave him. Or me. I'm spotting a trend. Lucky he's still small, or we wouldn't all fit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to stop here. There is so much more and maybe I'll do it during Apriltober. Right now, I'm longing to do dumb spooky stuff for a change. Because OCTOBER!
> 
> Next up: Reborn (prompt from Day 11)


	22. Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf and Duna ... hey, wait, it is most definitely NOT Wolf and Duna. Ahem, Irina and Yelv argue about squad missions on a beach. Also, Gwin is there.
> 
> Prompt is from Day 11.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

"Well, that just bites!" Yelv shouted, kicking up a spray of sand as he stomped furiously onto the beach.

Gwin shied away, clutching his assault rifle as if it were his first born. "Hey, don't gunk up my gear." He took several steps away and hurriedly brushed invisible grit off of his weapon. If he whispered to it slightly, no one paid attention.

"Relax," Irina snapped at the angry blond man. "Why are you having such a snit?"

"Did you count the materials it was dropping, lady? Uh, I mean, lootnet, uh, loytnet, uh, lootenenet, uh..."

"Irina works just fine," she reminded him. Damn Gwin for using her old ranking exactly once and then leaving Yelv to struggle with the pronunciation. "I saw the drops. I'm not worrying about them." And she wasn't. The floating xiphias, part narwhal, part nautilus mollusk, were notorious for revealing a rank inner core when shot down. She wasn't sure why they were packed so full of rotten meat and she was grateful that she didn't need to know. "We're here to clear the beach, not make some spare credits."

"Yeah, but I was thinking..." Yelv's brash voice dwindled to a mutter.

Irina stifled an impatient groan. Cross had encouraged her to bring this meathead along and then had promptly ditched them all for an urgent mission back at NLA. She wasn't too worried about it. It wasn't like she would have said no to a call from Elma, and the beach clearing job was a breeze even with a party of only her and Gwin. They'd done it approximately 25,000 times since they'd landed on this planet, and they'd probably do it another 25,000 times. So she shouldn't let it get to her that she had to keep the extra Reclaimer happy and focused.

But now Gwin had retreated to the skells and was cleaning his rifle. It was the third time this mission. Irina rolled her eyes. She needed to have a chat with him, because his worries about the thing jamming were starting to interfere with missions. She'd save that for back in NLA. She didn't want to give Yelv here any ideas about NOT maintaining his weapons. Yelv was still muttering about the drops. He was also digging into the sand with the toe of his boot like an petulant child. Irina did not need two man children at the same time. "Speak up, soldier," she said.

His response wasn't snappy but it was audible. "I was hoping to pick up some sapphire horns."

"We got them."

"Two. I need three."

"What for?"

"I dunno. Some Ma-non asked me for them this morning, urgent like."

Irina narrowed her silver eyes. "That wasn't on the mission description."

"It was a private thing. Mia hooked us up."

"And you were going to tell me this when?"

Yelv looked at her blankly. "Why?"

"Save me the innocent look. Teams share the rewards, Yelv."

Yelv looked even more blank.

"We're your team today," she explained patiently. "Whatever you're doing, we're helping. So you need to be sharing the rewards, even the not-so-official ones."

Yelv's face brightened under his tan and wild tattoos. "Oh! I gotcha, loo ... Irina. Guess I'm so used to rocking the whole lone wolf thing, I forget about teamwork and that kind of ..."

"... AND a bonus for teamwork," Irina interrupted, "is that if you tell your team leader ... (Yelv was looking uncertain) ... which is me, by the way ... (Yelv looked relieved; he must have guessed right) ... they'll usually agree to small changes to the mission." She holstered her knife and walked up the beach to where Gwin was lovingly swabbing what she desperately hoped was just his assault rifle. "Lunch break."

"But you said you'd help me," stammered Yelv, tagging behind her. He had to shorten his steps not to shoot past here in the process.

"I am helping. If we have lunch right now, there should be plenty of xiphias when we're done." She took the cooler case out of the back of her skell and shoved it at Yelv.

"Huh? We wiped 'em clear. Pow bang pew pew pew!" He fired imaginary shots at imaginary targets using the cooler case as a boxy raygun.

"This planet, Yelv," Irina continued. She piled a rough blanket on top of the cooler case, perfect for a picnic. "Things get reborn, if you give them enough time."

Yelv stopped in his tracks. He peered at her over the mound of lunch gear he was now carrying. "Ya think? Because that may change my way of thinking. About stuff. Important stuff."

"Take all the time you need with that. In the mean time, you want to try some potato salad recipe I've been working on?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun. And if you are worried about Gwin, don't be. He's just fine. (Unless you read [Drunkard, Hobo, Liar](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13214207/1/Drunkard-Hobo-Liar), in which case, ha ha ha, he's just fine, ha ha oh dear.)
> 
> Next up: Unfinished battle. (Wasn't that the entirety of Wolf & Duna?)


	23. Unfinished Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midway through the battle for the Lifehold, a team suffers a disturbing loss of confidence.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and if I don't name them I don't have to feed them.

"What do we do now?"

The team leader looked at the rookie with surprise. Normally such a question would never have been spoken, not even silently. Now this young soldier was asking it to his face. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on his clasped hands, letting his rifle swing loosely on its strap. It felt strangely indecent not to be holding the weapon, ready for more battle, as if he had stripped off his armor and were frolicking naked across the ashy fields that surrounded them.

His squad shuffled away from him, the spore sand squeaking beneath their feet. "We've lost, haven't we?" said a different soldier. The squad leader grimaced and kept his eyes shut tight. That man was one he should be able to rely on all the way to the Graveyard and beyond, and yet here he was, speaking nonsense. A blat from the radio, breaking with static, listed the divisions that were pulling back. Fewer than had been sent in with such fervor, fewer than were retreating just one report earlier.

The squad leader opened his eyes and assessed his team. They hadn't been selected for the final assault, none of them. There was shame in that, even if there was necessity as well. A skeleton crew had been left to maintain Hilal Stronghold. He wondered which bones this team made up.

The uncertainty, close to panic, that shone on the faces of his squad made him realize that he didn't have time to decide on their future. These men needed something to hold onto right now. "That battle is someone else's problem," he scoffed dismissively. He lifted his rifle again, finding more than comfort in its weight. "If they've wasted their chances, that leaves just that many more enemies for us to send as tribute to the Graveyard. What do we care of the Ganglion and their plans?"

"They supported us..." stuttered the rookie.

"Yes, Mah, they supported us. From behind. We are still where we will always be: at the very front." His squad nodded uncertainly, even the two questioners. "We do what we will always do: fight." The nods were more certain. "We are what we will always be:..."

"Marnuck!" his team shouted.

"We will be ..."

"MARNUCK!"

Ahama nodded and grinned at his troops with all three of his jaws. He would lead them away from this pestilent defensive position, to find them a new location to the north. He'd visited an encampment there and thought it would do nicely. Once settled, they would seek out their fill of combat. Their future was secure. Battles far away, surrounded by ocean, mattered very little to him, no matter how they ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to go fight Ahama, the Covetous, to see if I did him justice.
> 
> Next up: Collectopedia, from Day 13. Hmmm hmmm which one, which one? Not Rod of Brutality +10, no.


	24. Collectopedia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexa needs help from Curators, rather desperately. She gets help from Mathias. Okay.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft and the geniuses of Discord.

Alexa hurried down the street, her bright auburn hair tossed in every direction from her hurry. In her arms she carried a navy case, something large enough to hold a helmet or a smallish weapon, except the sides were soft and well ventilated. She skidded to a halt in front of the Curator's hangout. There were a few BLADEs laughing in front of a canvas pop-up shelter, and another group arguing, rather nastily, over cards.

"Yo, skell girl, what do you want here?" yelled one of the poker players, flicking a cigarette butt at the Curator to her left.

"I was supposed to meet Mathias here," Alexa said worriedly.

The Curator made a rude noise. "He doesn't hang here, sweetie."

"He's a Curator," Alexa pointed out.

The noise she got as a response was even ruder, with a bonus hand gesture. "He'd never cut it as one of us. If it weren't for his freaking cat, no one would give him the time of day."

"Well, anyway, I need to talk to him, not Aisha." Alexa paused a moment and wrinkled her nose in thought. "Not sure what I'd say to her anyway. Mew mew mew?" The worry returned to her face. "Where is he?"

"The Mediators take pity on him. Check with them." The group returned to their amusements, leaving Alexa ignored.

She returned the way she had come, now not bothering to hide that she was running. She managed to carry the crate without jostling it, however. A moment later she spotted him. Mathias was puttering with some samples at a table on the edge of the Mediators' HQ. She must have walked right by him earlier, her head so intent on finding him as fast as possible. She made her own rude noise, quietly and to herself, then called to him.

"Alexa," he said happily. "You said you had something important for me. You need me for a testing mission?"

"No, why would I ask you for that?" she asked blankly. She noticed his face seemed to fall at that obvious fact. But why? It wasn't like he knew anything about skells. Alexa pushed this huge distraction from her mind with effort. Mathias was garbage about skells but he was the only person in NLA that she thought might have useful information about the real problem at hand.

"What do you know about small animals?" she asked him.

"Well, mostly I research plants. Flowers, actually. There's some very nice samples from Noctilum that ..."

"But you have a cat. So you can tell me about what to do if they get sick, right?"

He took a sudden interest in the carrier in her arms. "Don't tell me the station cat got into something again. I told Lila that she absolutely had to watch out for that," he said angrily.

"Not the cat. My beaporge!" Alexa had plunked the carrier a little too roughly onto the table, heedless of Mathias' papers and samples. She unzipped the top and reached in to scoop out a small creature not unlike a miniature raccoon. The beaporge drooped limply in her hands, its fluffy ringed tail dangling piteously. It grabbed one of Alexa's thumbs and gave it a weak lick before tucking its head into her palm and closing its eyes. Alexa set it on the table, but kept her hands protectively around it. Her eyes shone like fire when she looked at Mathias. "Haro's been getting weaker all week. Today she stopped eating. She won't even groom the nice Ares I borrowed for her."

"I don't know anything about beaporge," Mathias protested.

Alexa stroked the creature's round ears and poofy jowls. "Cats are small and fuzzy, beaporge are small and fuzzy. Same difference."

"Hardly. You wouldn't compare an Ares to a construction skell," Mathias said. However, he stood next to Alexa and started petting the beaporge thoughtfully.

"Now that's just silly. The basic structure of Ares and construction skells share a LOT of similarity, although more if you were, say, talking Amdusias. That big boy is sort of the missing link between the two." Alexa chattered for several moments before stopping herself. Mathias had been ignoring her, which was kind of normal to be honest, but he had also become very focused on little Haro's abdomen, carefully palpitating it and even using his comm device to measure something.

"Is she gonna be okay? What do we need to do?"

"She's going to be fine," Mathias said with a smile. "And you need to come up with names for her kits. Three names. Probably before dinnertime."

"Big Zam, Zaku, and Scrapper," Alexa said without a blink of her eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the Xenomemers and Xenoboard+ers for their suggestions. And Youngest, who remembered Scrapper as fast as Alexa.
> 
> Next up: Fear. Oooh, what will that be?


	25. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin and Tatsu and too many scary stories in a dark, dark forest. Brrrrr.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.

They had been telling scary stories at the caravan, because the night was quiet and the season was spooky. Lin felt that the trees in Noctilum were lacking the proper skeletal structure, being plump from root to tallest branch, but they did manage to glow in a way that was almost eerie. Tatsu's little brothers and sisters were pretty easy to scare. Chattering teeth without mouths, food that disappeared, and monsters that sucked Nopon inside out, it all worked. One of the littlepon had burst into tears and one had wet himself. Tatsu looked very approvingly at Lin by the end.

Unfortunately, they had a longer walk back to the skell than Lin expected. In the daylight it hadn't been so far, a skip across lagoons and weaving through some vines. Frankly, she'd been a little lazy and hadn't wanted to walk back to move the skell closer to the Nopon encampment. Now her punishment was having to walk the nighttime forest with only the company of her roly-poly friend.

It would have been okay if Tatsu hadn't kept telling more stories. Nopon horror stories were pretty mild, compared to some of the stuff Lin had heard from other BLADEs. (Secretary Nagi was the worst at dropping a casual anecdote that left Lin shivering until morning.) The Nopon liked their horror stories with morals that didn't make sense to Lin's brain, although Tatsu would nod until he wobbled at the end of one of these fairy tales. All the same, listening to enough short descriptions of Nopon getting eaten, over and over, was irritating.

"Cut it out, Tatsu. I don't need to hear how this ancestor or that one got eaten by giant dilus with double rows of teeth." There was a splash from a nearby acid pool and Lin skipped slightly. "Or about things plucking you guys into the branches, never to be seen again."

"Except for eyeballs. Linly forget eyeballs dangling like fruit next morning."

"Ew." She ducked under a vine. Usually she'd push them out of the way, but that latest story made her not want to touch anything in the entire forest. They kept walking and Tatsu did not stop talking. Nopon stuffed with sand like sacks, Nopon swallowed by mud with only lips sticking out, Nopon stomped by their own nopopotomus that had been driven mad by tiny midges. Lin started to feel sorry for the littlepon.

She stopped so suddenly that Tatsu barreled into her knees, almost knocking her over. "Wasn't the skell right here?" she asked him.

"Tatsu not great at seeing in dark."

Lin examined the clearing. The grass was smooth and undisturbed. "Huh. Nothing's been parked here in a while. We must have gotten turned around."

They retraced their tracks. Lin looked worriedly at the bushes and branches, but nothing felt familiar. Tatsu tagged along, much closer and blessedly quiet. They reached a new clearing, but it was just as pristine as the first one. "Don't you know this area better?" she complained to Tatsu.

"Mamapon move here after Tatsu captured by meanie Prone. Not Tatsu's neighborhood." He bumbled a little closer to Lin. "Tatsu would be fine with resting here until morning."

"If we get stuck out here, we'd never live it down. First Elma would ground us."

"Again," agreed Tatsu.

"Then she'd only let us go out with full teams during the daytime."

"Again," agreed Tatsu.

"And she'd probably not let me pilot my own skell for a couple months."

"No no no, that too cruel!" Tatsu said loyally.

"Brrrr, that's the scariest thought of all. So we find the skell and make up a good reason why we're late."

"Mamapon need help with brother-sisterpon!" Tatsu said brightly.

"Perfect. Now we just need to find the freaking skell." Lin thought for a moment. "Hey, Tatsu, can we use the follow ball?"

"Only go to place we know."

"Fine. We'll use it to get back to the caravan and then try again. Only this time you stay quiet so I can pay attention to where we're going."

The follow ball worked as well as it usually did, glittering mistily through the forest, ignoring the normal paths and shortcuts. Still, after a surprisingly short walk, they could see the caravan at the end of the narrow rocky enclosure and they heard Tatsu's mom telling this littlepon or that to make sure to brush their tufts before sleep.

Lin took a deep breath in order to calm herself. She looked at the moons, at the shadows of the cliffs against the dark sky, and started walking in almost the exact same direction that they had arrived from. Tatsu wobbled next to her, making only the quietest of "meh"s. In less than five minutes they were at her skell, standing exactly where she had parked it.

"Get in, Tatsu." She boosted her friend up into the jump seat, then hopped in herself. "You know," she said while lovingly running the safety checks, "I would have found the skell right away if you hadn't been talking all the time."

"Linly and Tatsu walk exact same way both times," he said, teeth chattering.

"Yeah, I know," she said quietly. "Wonder how we missed it."

"Nightglow Forest maybe wanted to hear more stories."

"I don't like that."

"Maybe wanted more ideas for hurting Nopon," Tatsu said in a thin wail.

"I really don't like that," Lin said. "Right. We're good to go. In half an hour we'll be slurping up cocoa in the barracks living quarters. With extra marshmallows."

"Very good antidote for scary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can tell bedtime stories by the yard.
> 
> Next up: Armor. Hm, do I have any issues about GENDER SPECIFIC ARMOR WHY MAYBE I DO ... or maybe I'll try to take a break from that little issue. (Send help.)


	26. Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vandham is not in the mood for idiotic requests for new armor, which is what he is facing.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, even the unnamed Outfitter.
> 
> The really good things are care of the Xenomeme group.

Vandham held his head in both hands and braced himself on his elbows, both of which were planted heavily on his battered desk. He had dug his fingers into his blond hair and was perceptibly tugging on his cowlick. This negative attitude was not enough to slow the enthusiasm of the group of petitioners in front of him.

"No," Vandham growled, but there was a touch of hopeless resignation to his response.

"Wait until you see the list of mottos," enthused one of them, a pert bubble of an Outfitter with curls for miles.

"They've been thoroughly work-shopped," H.B. added.

"I'll bet," muttered Vandham. "No," he said more loudly.

"So Curators and Prospectors both wanted this one, but Prospectors won." Curly-Q tapped something on her comm device and tiny holographic underwear model floated in the center of the room, "Lick the Science" emblazoned on the seat of their relatively demure shorts.

"No," Vandham repeated.

"Armor doesn't have to stop on the outer layer," the Outfitter lectured. "If we can get division loyalty into play, we can protect our people even better." She tapped again, saying only, "Harriers."

Vandham coughed and shut his eyes. Another hologram, looking suspiciously like Barret, wore a pair with a single word, "Horny", on the seat and the Harrier's logo of the crooked horned unicorn. "Please. Stop."

"Pathfinders will of course be participating," H.B. said pointedly.

Vandham made a bet with himself and opened his eyes a fraction. Yup, it was a tiny version of his new adjutant, sans electronic clipboard, sans pants for that matter, with the motto "This Way" plus a small arrow on the seat of his shorts. Vandham shut his eyes again. "No."

"We think that the success of the bunnybod proves that this will be well received. Bonus: it will be gender neutral, which answers a particular sore point _some of us_ have with respect to the other armor." Curly-Q shot an speculative look at H.B., then sighed and shrugged.

"No."

"I don't want to take much more of your time. But I can show you the remaining logos we decided on." The hellish slide show continued. "Curators." [swipe] "Prime Collectable."

"No."

"Mediators." [swipe] "Relaxation Area"

"No."

"Outfitters." [swipe] "My Other Ride Is a Skell"

"No."

Curly-Q nodded unhappily. "Well, I kinda agree with you on that one, but the on-line voting was VERY strongly in favor of this one. Suspiciously so. We may need to revisit this one."

"I mean, no to this whole idea. No, no, and no. We are not using resources for division specific underwear." Vandham waved a meaty paw through the air, disturbing the latest holographic image. "Look, I get enough heat for approving the bunnybod."

"You know, I always wondered," the Outfitter gal asked with a glint in her eye.

"Lost a bet with Nagi. So I do not need..."

"And the ritual bodywear from Six Stars?"

"Another bet, plus it keeps the Wrothians happy."

"And the mid weight armor from the Orpheans?"

"Cultural exchange is an all-mighty problem and we're lucky they were willing to negotiate up to what we got," Vandham barked. He looked angrily at the two whelps in front of him. "Point is, you aren't Nagi, Wrothian, or a swarm of super intelligent locusts, so I'm gonna tell you this one last time and stick to it. NO. Now beat it."

H.B. and the young woman left, looking somewhat defeated. But only somewhat. "Let's go see what L thinks," whispered the Outfitter quietly as they headed though the door. It slid closed before the groan from Vandham reached hurricane proportions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the mottoes care of the geniuses of the Xenomeme group. Good ideas never die.
> 
> Next up: Promise. I feel a spooky one coming.


	27. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four xenos (the ones from the Bug Whisper sidequest) are sharing ghost stories. This is the Orphean's offering.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except the West Gate Station.

For the moment the West Gate Skell Refueling Station was peaceful. The rest of NLA might hum with a steady beat even well past midnight, but this corner of the Industrial Sector was calm. No teams rushing out to teach something in Noctilum a lesson. No construction crews improving the defenses of the ringed city. Not even any customers dropping off their skells.

Which wasn't to say things weren't happening. The parking area was full of skells that customers had left for overnight refueling. Each of the four bays had a mech already stationed and connected to the fuel lines. The meters were ticking quietly, mixing the different fuels in a careful sequence, a slow process that enhanced combat performance and was the proprietary secret of the stations' owners. The night crew had little to do until this set of skells was finished and the next set was automatically installed by tiny golden robots that whizzed and twirled when needed but were currently lined up neatly by the Quickie Quickie Mart.

In the meantime, the night crew had nothing much to do. The unofficial night manager, Selia, had draped her blue form comfortably over her Nopon coworker. Tikotiko had resigned himself to his fate as pillow, not even muttering when another coworker, Ma-non this time, also propped himself against the fluffy xeno. The only member not lounging on Tiko was Orphean. Min'barac was pacing back and forth, intertwining his claws with agitation.

"I will only be able to do the story 24.072% justice."

"Because friend think friends stupid," muttered Tikotiko.

"Orphean literature tends to to to be long and highly detailed, okay?" Noborata said, casually scratching one floppy ear. Then he scratched Tikotiko's tuft for good measure.

"Do your best and we will profit from even the worst retelling," Selia encouraged her friend.

Min'barac took a deep breath. They had been telling scary stories to pass the time, since it was nearing Halloween and the humans seemed to have gone to great lengths to encourage this kind of behavior. It was now his turn. He was sure that his retelling of the famous novel, "Promise/Liar" (a highly reduced title, the true version requiring over 5000 words), would be a failure, but it was his favorite and he thought it might do as a scary story.

xcxcxcxcxc

A disaster had swept through an Orphean city, scattering the few survivors. Two Orphe found themselves together, strangers, both on the brink of death. One, a very careful and respected elder, had enough senirapa water in his possession to allow himself to fission before perishing, but not enough to share. The other Orphe begged the first to allow their ovah to combine. He assured the first Orphe that it would cause the offspring no harm. "I promise you, 97.98%, it will cause no problem."

[Min'barac paused to explain the details of how this was highly unusual but not impossible, but Selia waved at him to skip over this bit. Reluctantly he did so.]

The fission was indeed successful, creating a single survivor, although the new Orphe found he could only remember the elder's life, not the stranger's. But both ovah hummed within his chest. He noted uneasily that while one gave steady clear guidance. the other seemed only to chitter and whine at the edges of sleep.

Shortly afterwards, the Orphe fell in with another group of survivors. To his joy, he recognized one of them, a close fission-cousin and friend of his original. The two were very glad to be reunited. Things seemed to be improving but ill fate kept befalling the little group. Rumors and unkindnesses spread through the group, so that one did not trust the other. The new Orphe always spoke in the kindest way, as his calming ovah directed would be certain to ease tensions by 98.403%. Alas, his honesty only brought more dissent between members.

Worse still, at night he was disturbed by something like visions. The whining ovah would present terrible prophecies, quite ridiculous in the morning light. And yet, again and again, misfortune befell the group. Slowly the new Orphe realized there was some truth to these twisted dreams. No amount of promises by his main, clear ovah could soothe him.

On the day that the cousin was selected to go on a scouting mission, the Orphe awoke with the certainty that something terrible would happen. He lured his cousin away from the camp and made him linger until the task was given to another. His main ovah made him feel ashamed for this foolishness, but he could not bear to do otherwise.

The replacement scout did not return. They came upon his corpse a few days later, his away rations poisoned by someone in the group. The cousin would have been the victim had the new Orphe not acted.

The hostility that had been growing broke out into violence, and it was with horror that the two cousins found themselves the only survivors. The young Orphe had needed to defend himself quite brutally. He felt horrendously guilty. His calm daytime ovah let him know with satisfaction that he had been 100% in the right, but the thin midnight ovah hissed uncertain warnings.

The cousins discussed the events in the darkest hours of night, and together they realized that the calm sunshine voice within the new Orphe was cruel. Not satisfied with its survival, it wanted to erase any other ovah around it. It had been forcing the Orphe to provoke all of this hostility. The new Orphe wept and dragged at his antennae, but the cousin comforted him. They had only to procure more senirapa water, allow the Orphe to split into two, and then destroy the evil fission twin.

They managed to find the water, and the new Orphe was able to split into two healthy offspring. The fight to destroy the evil version was epic. [Mon'barac could have wept that he only remembered a sprinkling of the statistics for buffs and debuffs as the fight progressed. His listeners seemed unconcerned, so he dropped the effort.] Finally, with the cousin lying unconscious on the ground, the good copy, the truest form of the original elder, was able to overcome the false copy and kill him.

He revived his cousin and the two were able to rejoice together. "We will be able to live in peace now. I promise it with 100% certainty," said the victorious Orphe.

xcxcxcxcxcx

Mon'barac looked at his teammates. Tikotiko was frowning deeply across his round face. "100% guarantee is fakey fakey. Tikotiko not buying."

Selia looked down at the Nopon. "Do you mean the wrong Orphe was killed?"

"Either that or the ovah had spread to to to both somehow, right?" Noborata squeaked.

Selia shivered. "I would not like to have my inner self turn traitor to me and mine." An alarm pinged with a gentle twang, and two tiny robots shot off towards the parking area to begin dragging a fresh skell into the station. Selia stood up and tidied her clothes carefully. "Bay 2 is ready. I am sorry to stop, but also glad to hear no more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy alien scary stories. Someday I will talk about Ma-non. "And they used GOTO!"
> 
> Next up: Desolation.


	28. Desolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Elma finds a ruined Nopon camp. Oh no!
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except the unnamed camp.

Tatsu sifted through the rubble of the encampment. They had been invited to a party in Cauldros by a childhood friend of Tatsu's. They had arrived to find a smoking ruin.

"Hey, hey," Lin said encouragingly. She had been sweeping the area with her comm device, trying to pick up useful information, but she'd stopped when she'd looked up and found Tatsu running his wingarms through the charred grass, lifting small sticks. "I'm sure they're fine. Somewhere."

Tatsu resolutely shook the ash from the latest branch he'd found and added it to a pathetic pile he'd been building. He didn't say anything, only returned to rooting through the debris.

"What are you doing, Tatsu?" Elma asked gently.

"Wood very rare in Cauldros," Tatsu muttered without looking up from his task. "Precious collectable. Caravan need it when come back." His voice was a wobbly squeak when he reached the last words.

"It's not like it was even a real caravan," Lin began, but she shut up when Elma raised a single eyebrow.

"Very thoughtful, Tatsu, and proof that you'd make a fine Reclaimer," Elma said. "But I'd like to see if we can find your friends first."

"Tatsu stay here and clean," he said stubbornly, scratching at the dirt. He lifted out a stumpy piece of wood, not much longer than Lin's thumb, and delicately added it to the stack. "Not want them think Tatsu forget to come."

"May I have that piece, please?" Elma asked with grave politeness.

Tatsu hesitated, then carefully curled the tips of his wingarm around the stick. He stretched up high, higher than necessary, then set the charred piece of wood in Elma's hand.

Elma walked over to a flat rock. She settled onto her heels and began to write. The charcoal tip scratched against the stone.

Tatsu waddled over and said bitterly, "Nopon not understand BLADE scribbles and BLADE not know any Nopon."

"I think they'll still get the message," Elma said after a moment.

Lin put away her comm device to check it out. There were two stick figures and one round blob. The smaller stick figure held a flat wedge in front of herself. The tall stick figure held two guns. The blob balanced a fuzzy ball in one wingarm. "Cool. It's like writing Team Elma Was Here."

"It says Team Tatsu was here and is ready to find and help you," corrected Elma.

Tatsu took the last fragment of burnt stick from Elma's hand. He rubbed it vigorously against the tips of one wing arm, then slapped the stone with a crack. His wing print rose above the stick figure team. "Team Tatsu roll out," he said with slowly returning optimism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my XCX, they found the missing Nopon and then had cupcakes. Because I need happy endings, not ice cream cake.
> 
> Next up: Loneliness. Sure, that'll be upbeat and happy.


	29. Loneliness, or, Haircut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milly the NPC helps Roo the Cross in a sticky situation.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, but Roo is my old boy.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Milly poked her head out of a Nopon tent and looked worriedly at the BLADE standing at the water's edge. None of the native inhabitants were rushing about, so Milly thought that any danger wasn't physically present in the camp. Roo, however, was tugging at his stringy grey hair and howling.

She found the lanky member of Elma's team difficult to measure, and as a Mediator-in-training this was always a worry for her. It's not that she wasn't always glad to see him. Her Nopon hosts were perfectly hospitable, for a reasonable charge, but it wasn't the same as human company. Whenever he visited Oblivia's Dorian caravan, Roo had been cheerful and light, even teasing. But something about the scar crisscrossing his face, bright against his weathered skin and barely missing his narrow pale eyes, made her nervous. It reminded her of how sharp his weapons were and how he was already the first to get in the skells whenever his team leader would get an order for a new mission. He would give her a cheerful wave as he swung into his ride, but there was also a certain false eagerness that left her concerned.

None of that mattered. If he was yelling in pain, something terrible must have happened. "Problems, Roo?" she asked timidly.

"I [scream] got [more screaming] mortifole [high pitched yelp] goo [gurgling yodel] in my hair [howl]." Milly realized he wasn't tugging at his hair; he was trying to pull his fingers free. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Calm down, calm down!" she shouted. She lifted her hands as in supplication, then froze. She slowly lowered her hands, wriggling her fingers as she did.

"You casting a spell on me?" he snapped. One palm was now stuck to his forehead.

"Relaxation technique," she murmured. "Obviously you can't do it right now, but there's no point us both becoming hysterical."

"I'M NOT HYSTERICAL aha ha ha ha, guess I am. Shoot." He sat gracelessly onto the sand with a rushing thump, one lean leg stretched out casually, the other curled underneath him. His hands remained fixed to his head.

Milly stepped hesitantly up to him, peering at the sides of his head. "Don't touch," he warned her. "Or do. It's all gonna have to be cut off." He sighed.

"If it is, worst case scenario you'll have to get the MMC to fix it. But I think I have a solution. Literally. Wait here."

"Kinda stuck, aren't I?" he replied with a laugh.

Milly ducked into another tent, the one that the Nopon were letting her camp in, and rummaged in her personal pack. She found what she wanted and returned to the stricken man.

She waved a small golden tube under his nose. "Ma-non oil-conditioner."

"Made from real Ma-non?"

"Ha, ha," Millie said patiently. "It works great getting the after-effects of sandstorms out of my hair. May I?" She mimed pouring it on his head.

Roo leaned away. "Honestly, I don't want you to get stuck. Are you sure?"

"It was also the only thing that helped after a Nopon food fight. Let me try." She knelt next to him and squeezed a copious amount on the top of his head. She tentatively started rubbing it in. Once she was sure that she wouldn't become part of Roo's problems, she set to work with enthusiasm.

"How'd you get in this fix anyway?" she asked chattily.

Roo laughed and pulled one hand free with effort. "I left my helmet near a patch of flowers. They weren't flowers. Must have filled the thing with sap and sorry-o that I am, I didn't notice until I'd jammed it on my head. Man, do I suck at Outfitter missions."

"How did you get your helmet off?"

"Pretty easily. I guess the stuff prefers hair to helmet linings."

They sat while Milly massaged the conditioner from the tips of Roo's long hair all the way to his scalp. Roo cracked a few jokes and asked after several Nopon in the caravan, but finally settled into silence. When the tube of hair product was empty and Roo's hair was a slithery mass, faintly oregano-scented, Milly declared that she was done. "I need to get a bucket to rinse it," she said.

"I got a better idea." Roo jumped to his feet and in a second he had plunged into the lake, shooting like a torpedo away from the shore. But he didn't leave Milly alone for long. He was back, flicking water in every direction as he swung his long hair back and forth. "So, you gonna help me dry this mess?"

"Sure. Let me borrow a towel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed to have fun today because that first line? "Ahhhhhhhh!"? That was the conversation in my house at dinnertime. Roo let Milly braid his hair once, in [Ring Around the Rosies.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12834442/6/Ring-Around-the-Rosies) (Except I called her Maisie, whoops.)
> 
> Next up: Celebration. Rosalie the OC is gonna throw yet another Day of the Dead party, I just know it.


	30. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosalee and a bunch of other OCs have a very relaxed Day of the Dead.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, which is not this party.

Last year's party had been a blow-out, filling the Repenta and spilling into the parking lot. Rosalee had been proud of her hand in the event, but this year she preferred something quieter. "Nothing to prove, huh?" her brother had joked, but that wasn't it, and she let him know in no uncertain tones. If she kept being the host, then people wouldn't realize the day was for everyone. Alexa had jumped at the chance to be the organizer. If that meant that the streets leading to the Repenta were lined with sugar skells, then so be it.

Rosalee's party was only a dozen people or so: Rosalee, her roommates, her brother Lucky, his roommates Josefina and Gino, and a few friends. Okay, that meant more like two dozen, but the house Rosalee shared with the other girls had enough living room, dining room, kitchen, and yards, front and back, to hold everyone. It shouldn't feel that full, and yet Rosalee was running out of oxygen after the first hour.

She looked a little wildly at her brother. He was draped across the edge of a sofa, looking more attractive than was physically possible in a t-shirt/jeans combo. And yet there were at least three guests surrounding him, giving him openly smoldering glances and each one desperately needing a cool drink of water. Lucky was laughing and chatting easily, which meant that none of those kids meant a thing to him. Not like Rosalee, who was having the weirdest trouble talking to her guests. She heard him promising to play a new song in a few minutes.

The lights were low in the living room, but there was still plenty of light, because against one wall was the ofrenda, the altar to the dead that was the reason for this celebration. Every tier of the altar glowed with candles. Maybe all those tiny flames were the cause of Rosalee's breathlessness. Their light flickered off of the silver frames of memorial photos that Rosalee had collected from guests in advance. All their family, all their friends, they were here too, ready to enjoy the party with them. Threading between the silver frames were swags of orange and golden marigolds, along with native Miran flowers that added their own light. Sugar skulls, shaped loaves of bread, and every fruit that Rosalee could find at the Food Coop added to the decorations. A discrete bottle or two were tucked in as well.

Rosalee grabbed a soda from the kitchen and found an empty chair in the living room. She didn't want to miss her brother's performance. He could have earned a nice chunk of credits, playing at the Repenta with his band tonight, but he'd insisted that he wanted to be with her tonight. "And with the family," he said uneasily. Rosalee looked at one of the largest photos on display, of young man that looked almost exactly like Lucky. She sighed and sipped her drink. But the sadness faded as Lucky started to tune his guitar, preparing to sing.

Someone bumped her, making her slop a little soda in her lap. When she turned to chew out the clumsy guest, all with a rough humor of course, her words died on her lips.

"Mind if I grab some real estate?" Marguerite asked. She settled onto the arm of Rosalee's chair without waiting for an answer, wrapping an arm along the back. Rosalee sat frozen, now without a single molecule of air in her lungs.

"You know, I still owe you dinner," Marguerite said casually. "Or maybe we could do a makeover. I'm good at that kind of thing. Not that you don't look, mmmm, fantastic tonight."

"Uhhhh." Rosalee was worried that the sudden sweat on her face would wash her carefully applied make-up straight down her neck.

"Usually you look a little fierce, mija, but tonight you toned it down. Comfort of home and all that? I like it, even if it isn't your regular look." Marguerite flushed suddenly. "Listen to me. Telling you about your look. You look good." She tilted her head back and laughed a little too brightly. "Okay, gonna shut up, starting now."

Rosalee awkwardly grabbed at Marguerite's hand resting near her shoulder. She got it on the second try, before Marguerite had finished laughing, and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad you came," Rosalee said simply.

"Me too, mija."

Rosalee didn't think to let go of Marguerite's hand until everyone was clapping at the end of Lucky's song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one gives Rosalee the respect she deserves. She has shown up in so many stories, including [one with her name in it](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12170844/1/Rosalee-and-Lucky).
> 
> Last up: Halloween and I am going to do somthting stupid with Lin and Tatsu, and maybe skells. SUGAR SKELLS.


	31. Crossover, or, Sugar Skell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the First Annual Halloween Skell Rally. If you squint real hard, you can spot the prompt.
> 
> All the good things belong to Monolith Soft and I need the Day of the Dead skell DLC.

"This is so cool!" Lin shouted, her hands in tight fists, vibrating with excitement.

"I know, right?!" Alexa shouted. The two founders of the "Skell Yes" fan club were having a self-congratulatory moment as they stood on the road leading to the Repenta. They had spent weeks organizing the First Annual Halloween Skell Rally, and it was a smashing success.

All along the street, parked neatly on the sidewalks, were skells decorated for the season. Alexa had collected a few coupons from local businesses as prizes, the largest one being a complete skell detailing service worth 20,000 credits from West Gate Station, but it was clear that most of the participants were there for the sheer joy of the event. Clusters of Nopon parents surrounded by gaping littlepon wandered slowly up and down the street. Wrothians were taking selfies in front of friends' displays. BLADEs from every division were pointing out their favorite details. And of course the skell owners were congratulating each other and swapping tips on how they managed the special effects.

A few participants were even in costume to match their rides. One Amadusias owner was in a suspiciously stained lab coat, to match the Frankenstein's monster green paint job of his skell. The skell had decorative neck bolts and regularly blasted a creaking moan from its sound system. A few skells down, a cackling witch offered the littlepon gingerbread broken off from her crispy and sweet smelling Verus. So effective was her outfit that not every littlepon was willing to take the risk. Maybe it was because of the realistic oven smoldering on the skell's back, or the littlepon-sized cookies that decorated the front of the skell.

Further down, four BLADEs had joined together to recreate the Wizard of Oz. One wore a blue and white gingham dress with silver slippers, while the second had tufts of dry Oblivia grass sticking out of his sleeves and pant legs. The third member was Wrothian, a new xeno recruit, and was going absolutely ham with tail flicks and shivering growls. The skell itself stood stiffly, large and silver. Occasionally the invisible pilot whispered through the sound system, "Oiiiiiiillll caaaaan."

"You should offer to be Toto," Lin had joked to Tatsu as they passed.

"Meh meh meh, Tatsu worked very hard on costume. Maybe next year." He adjusted first the ornate prickly headdress he wore, a fountain of green leaves, then rearranged the wreath of flowers hanging from his neck. It was hard to see the latter, since they blended into the wildly floral shirt he was wearing. "This year Tatsu is ancient heropon. Nyapakapow!." He twirled dramatically, but stopped when the necklace wrapped around his face. Lin stooped down to help free him.

"Sure thing, Tater," Lin said when he was untangled, then stood to rearrange her wings. Her own outfit was a bit of a shift from her normal interests, but she was satisfied by it. It was supposed to be Telethia, the Endbringer, or at least a stylized version of it. Her body suit was decorated with glowing spirals (thanks to Ma-non art supplies) and a delicate cape fluttered on her shoulders to represent the wings and tail. She had a beaked hood on her head. It wasn't as accurate as other costumes, but it was easy to move in and she thought she looked both fierce and maybe a little pretty.

Alexa was wearing skell gear, which had surprised Lin. She'd expected her friend to make at least some effort, maybe not the full miniature skell of past years, but something more than off the shelf armor. When she'd complained, Alexa had winked and said to wait until they got to the end of the street.

They continued walking, enjoying the toxic zombie skell (winner of the Zaruboggan Special Award for Excellence), then a skell that transformed into a haunted house when it shifted into vehicle mode, and after that a princess skell with glimmering poofy skirt. Of course, a few skells were simply there in all their natural glory. Lin was glad her costume was so streamlined when one pilot suggested Lin check out the modifications made to the mech. She didn't have to be asked twice and was climbing all over the sweet sweet machine in a flash, poking her nose into every upgrade and weapon swap.

"Come on, Lin," Alexa finally yelled. "Let's get a move on."

Lin felt a little hurt. Alexa usually would have been the first to join her in skell drooling, but apparently tonight she was all about being the official organizer. Lin sighed and rejoined her stuffy friend as they continued their walk. They were getting close to the end of the displays. Lin followed Alexa to the final entry and stopped in awe.

It was a sugar skell. Decorated after the fashion of the sugar skulls that were part of the city's Day of the Dead celebration, the bone-white mech twinkled and glowed with small candles and Noctilum flowers. The skin of the skell was grey-white and grainy, with just a hint of sparkle. The face of the mech was painted to have empty eye sockets and a grid of teeth, very skull-like and eerie. But it was joyous too, because the face was also decorated with flowers and leaves and hearts and foil teardrops in magenta and turquoise and gold. Thick ropes made from marigolds were slung along its shoulders and snaked down its arms. It wore a huge crown of roses and more marigolds, like a halo of flowers.

"Wowwwwww," breathed Lin.

"You want to hop in? I'm piloting the lead skell in today's parade through New Los Angeles." Alexa asked. "Not you, Tatsu," she added. "You're too prickly."

Tatsu had whipped off his hat and necklace before Lin could say a word. "Tatsu ready to roll!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very happy Halloween to everyone, and a blessed Day of the Dead. The ones we lost still love us, or we love them, or maybe both.
> 
> FYI, a few Halloweens ago I dressed Tatsu as [the other heropon of XC](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12213299/1/Trick-or-Treat), which was very satisfying.
> 
> Next up ... hey, I'm done. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME FOR 31 DAYS OF SILLINESS! That was fun, let's do it again next year!


End file.
